c 


No. 

/ 

Division  ...... 

Range 
Shelf.. 


Received  ' 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA, 


GIFT  OF 


WILLIAM  OILMAN  THOMPSON. 


M  E  M  0 1  R  S 


OP 


REV.  JOSEPH  BUCKMINSTER,  D.  D., 


AND    OF    HIS    SOX, 


REV.  JOSEPH  STEVENS  BUCKMINSTER. 


BY 


ELIZA  BUCKMINSTER  LEE. 


BOSTO^: 

WM.  CROSBY   AND  II.  P.  NICHOLS, 

111  WASHINGTON  STREET. 

1849. 


I. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849.  by 

WM.  CROSBY  AND  H.  P.  NICHOLS, 
in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAM  BRIDGE: 

M  E  T  C  A  L  F      AND     COMPANY,- 

PRINTERS   TO  THE   UNIVERSITY. 


PREFACE. 


IT  may  very  naturally  be  asked,  why,  if  the  lives  of 
the  persons  whose  memoirs  are  contained  in  the  follow 
ing  pages  possessed  an  interest  for  the  community,  the 
silence  of  nearly  forty  years  should  have  remained  un 
disturbed  upon  their  memory.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
may  be  asked,  Why  are  the  seals  now  broken,  and  the 
veil  of  domestic  privacy  withdrawn  which  concealed 
features  composed  in  the  unchangeable  beauty  of  death  ? 
The  history  of  the  book  is  simply  this.  About  fourteen 
months  ago,  I  was  requested,  by  a  gentleman  well 
known  to  the  literary  and  religious  public,  Rev.  Dr. 
Sprague  of  Albany,  to  furnish  some  recollections  of  my 
father  and  brother  for  a  work  which  he  is  preparing  for 
the  press,  —  "  Annals  of  the  American  Pulpit,  or  Bio 
graphical  Notices  of  Eminent  American  Clergymen  of 
various  Denominations." 

In  recurring  for  that  purpose  to  letters  and  papers 
which  had  fallen  into  my  possession  as  the  hearts  that 


PREFACE. 


dictated  and  the  hands  that  wrote  became  cold  in  death, 
but  which  a  sentiment,  understood  by  every  heart  of 
sensibility,  had  suffered  to  remain  undisturbed  for  so 
many  years,  it  seemed  to  me,  as  I  read  them  anew,  that 
they  contained  much  which  should  not  be  willingly  suf 
fered  to  die,  —  that  they  might  teach  other  hearts,  — 
and  that,  as  the  blessed  dews  and  rain  do  not  return 
merely  to  the  fountains  and  rivers  from  which  they  are 
drawn,  but  are  diffused  in  showers  which  revive  distant 
places,  so  these  letters  also,  intended  only  for  private 
instruction,  might  counsel  some  other  son,  or  encourage 
the  heart  of  some  other  parent. 

In  preparing  the  memoir  of  my  brother,  I  have  been 
able  —  through  the  excellent  arrangement  of  his  papers 
at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  the  almost  reverential  care 
of  his  friend,  Mr.  George  Ticknor,  to  preserve  even  the 
smallest  fragment  from  his  pen  —  to  present  of  him  near 
ly  a  complete  autobiography.  The  thread  with  which  I 
have  connected  the  memorials  from  his  own  pen  may 
seem,  to  those  who  have  never  heard  of  him,  heavy  and 
overcharged  with  eulogy,  while,  to  the  few  surviving 
friends  who  enjoyed  his  intimacy,  the  portrait  I  have 
endeavoured  to  fill  up  will  appear,  if  not  incorrect  in 
its  outline,  cold  and  faint  in  its  coloring. 

The  delicacy  and  reserve  which  I  have  felt  in  endeav 
ouring  to  present  to  the  public,  in  their  true  light,  the 
characters  of  relatives  so  near  in  blood  and  so  precious 


PREFACE.  V 

to  memory,  has  been  in  some  degree  lessened  by  the 
years  that  have  removed  their  beloved  forms  from  my 
sight ;  but,  as  I  have  receded  from  them  in  time,  I  have 
been  able  to  approach  nearer  to  them  in  the  true  appre 
ciation  of  their  characters.  As  we  look  back  upon  the 
long  past,  the  venerated  forms  of  early  life  rise  up 
again,  and  through  the  suffering  of  our  own  souls  we 
come  to  an  understanding  of  theirs,  as  the  sun  at  last 
shines  through  the  tears  of  a  cloudy  day,  and,  as  it  ap 
proaches  its  setting,  reveals  those  who  began  life  with  us 
in  all  the  rainbow  beauty  of  the  morning  sky. 

E.  B.  L. 

MAY  15,  1849. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Ancestry  of  Dr.  Joseph  Buckminster  in  England  and  in  America.         1 


CHAPTER  II. 

Joseph  Buckminster.  —  Childhood.  —  Education  and  Residence, 
as  Tutor,  at  Yale  College.  —  Form  of  Religious  Faith.  .  .  9 

CHAPTER   III. 

Dr.  Buckminster's  Settlement  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire. 

—  Reminiscences  of  the  Piscataqua  Association  of  Ministers. 

—  Their  Meetings.  —  Missionary  Magazine.  —  Prayer-book 

for  the  Use  of  Families 26 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Portsmouth.  —  Peculiarity  in  its  Early  Settlement  and  in  its  So 
ciety. —  Its  Wealth.  —Personal  Recollections.  —  Mrs.  Tap- 
pan,  Dr.  Buckminster's  Sister 34 

CHAPTER  V. 

Marriage  of  Mr.  Buckminster.  —  Character  and  Anecdotes  of 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Dr.  Stevens.  —  Death  of  Mrs.  Buckminster.  —  Depression  of 
Spirits.  —  Second  Marriage.  —  Joys  and  Trials.' 51 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Early  Development  of  the  Character  of  his  Son  Joseph.  —  Let 
ters  between  the  Father  and  the  Son.  —  Exeter  Academy.  .  67 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Joseph  enters  College.  —  His  Character  as  a  Student.  —  Letters 
from  his  Father 83 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Joseph  S.  Buckminster.  —  Assistant  in  Exeter  Academy.  — 
Theological  Studies.  — Method  of  Study. —Letters.  ...  109 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Joseph's  Residence  at  Waltham.  — Theological  Studies.  —  Cor 
respondence  with  his  Father  upon  his  Religious  Opinions, 
and  upon  his  Entrance  on  the  Ministry.  —  Purpose  of  Relin 
quishing  his  Chosen  Profession 126 

CHAPTER   X. 

Character  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  Preaching.  —  Extracts  from  his 
Sermons.  —  Letters 151 

CHAPTER   XL 

Joseph  S.  Buckminster.  —  His  Theological  Studies.  —  Corre 
spondence.  —  His  Invitation  to  Brattle  Street  Church.  —  His 
Ordination.  183 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER   XII. 

Extracts  from  Sermons.  —  Illness.  —  Music.  —  Letters.     .     .     .     198 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

Ordination  of  a  Classmate.  —  Monthly  Anthology.  —  Anthology 
Club.  —  Journal  of  Studies.  —  Letters 220 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

Journal  of  J.  S.  Buckminster  in  London. — Journal  and  Letters 
upon  the  Continent 255 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Mr.  Buckminster's  Return  to  Boston.  — Increased  Ardor  in  his 
Studies.  —  Friendship  and  Attachment  to  Mr.  Walter.  —  Grief 
at  his  Death 297 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

J.  S.  Buckminster.  —  His  Interest  in  Periodical  Literature. — 
And  in  Sacred  Literature.  —  Beginning  of  LTnitarian  Contro 
versy.  —  Extracts  from  Sermons 315 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Ordination  of  Mr.  Parker,  at  Portsmouth.  —  Dr.  Buckminster's 
Friendship  for  him.  —  J.  S.  Buckminster's  Housekeeping  with 
his  Sister  in  Boston.  —  Letters  from  Drs.  Sprague,  Pierce,  and 
Abbot. —Dr.  Worcester 354 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Sermon  on  the  Death  of  Governor  Sullivan.  —  Letter  on  Duel- 


X  CONTENTS. 

ling.  —  Bible  Society.  —  Address  before  the  Society  of  $  B  K. 

—  The  Athenceum 331 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

Correspondence  between  Dr.  Buckniinster  and  his  Daughter. — 
Remarks  upon  the  Correspondence 414 

CHAPTER   XX. 

Death  of  Rev.  Mr.  Emerson. — Appointment  of  J.  S.  Buckniin 
ster  as  Lecturer  upon  the  Dexter  Foundation  in  Harvard  Col 
lege.  —  Study  of  German.  —  Intellectual  Character  and  Hab 
its. —Last  Illness.  .  . 436 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

Domestic  Events  relating  to  Dr.  Buckminster.  —  Journey  to 
Connecticut.  —  Cheerfulness  and  Uninterrupted  Health  for 
four  Years.  —  His  last  Illness,  and  Death.  —  Interment.  — 
Monument.  —  Funeral  Services  at  Portsmouth  and  Boston.  — 
Reinterment  and  Monument  of  J.  S.  Buckminster 460 


APPENDIX 479 


MEMOIRS. 


MEMOIR  S. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ANCESTRY  OF  DR.  JOSEPH    BTJCKMINSTER    IN    ENGLAND  AND  IN 
AMERICA. 

THE  biographies  of  the  two  divines  which  are  em 
braced  in  the  following  pages  may  properly  be  intro 
duced  by  some  brief  aqpount  of  the  ancestry  from  which 
they  sprung. 

The  name,  Buckminster,  as  it  is  written  by  the  last 
generations  of  the  family,  is  supposed,  by  the  historian 
of  the  town  of  Framingham,  Massachusetts,  to  be  an  al 
teration  from  Buckmaster,  which  he  conjectures  was  the 
original  name,  as  it  appears  written  in  the  Colony  records 
of  Massachusetts,  and  upon  deeds  of  the  seventeenth  cen 
tury.  This  is  a  mistake.  The  name  of  "  Adam  Buck- 
minister,"  and  "  Roberti  filii  sui,"  appears  as  far  back  as 
A.  D.  1216  in  the  English  records  in  Westminster,  print 
ed  by  order  of  King  William  the  Fourth,  and  the  name 
is  repeated  with  the  same  spelling  through  all  the  gen 
erations  of  the  family,  till  it  became  altered  in  this  coun 
try  by  the  careless  spelling  of  the  records.  This  will 
not  appear  surprising  to  persons  acquainted  with  the  rec 
ords,  where  are  found  names  long  honored  and  revered 
1 


6  ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BUCKMINSTER 

by  their  descendants,  altered,  and  even  travestied  in  the 
most  unaccountable  manner. 

The  first  emigrant  of  the  name  of  Buckminster  to  this 
country  is  said  to  have  come  from  Wales,  —  I  know  not 
from  what  authority  or  tradition,  but  it  seems  unlikely  ; 
for  I  find  that  in  1578,  the  twenty-first  year  of  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth,  a  coat  of  arms  was  granted  to  William 
Buckminster,  son  and  heir  of  Richard  Buckminster, 
eldest  son  of  John  Buckminster  of  Peterborough,  and 
to  all  the  posterity  of  John  Buckminster  for  ever. 

The  eldest  ancestor  of  whom  we  have  any  knowledge 
is  Thomas  Buckminster,  the  author  of  an  Almanac  for 
the  year  1599,  printed  in  London.  A  copy  of  this 
Almanac  has  been  preserved  in  the  family  to  the  present 
time.  Watts,  in  his  Bibliotheca  Britannica,  mentions 
u  Thomas  Buckminster,  Minister,  His  Right  Chris 
tian  Calendar  and  Spiritual  Prognosticator  for  1583  and 
1584."  These  are  doubtless  numbers  of  the  same  series 
with  the  Almanac  just  spoken  of,  and  now  before  me.  It 
contains  a  calendar,  printed  in  red  and  black  ink,  of  the 
days  of  the  month,  the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  the  changes 
of  the  moon,  etc.  It  is  a  pleasant,  although  perhaps  a 
fanciful  thought,  that  Shakspeare  himself  may  have  re 
sorted  to  one  of  Thomas  Buckminster's  Almanacs  to 
see  if  the  full  moon  would  serve  for  the  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,  written  and  performed  between  1590  and 
1600. 

I  here]  copy  as  specimens  two  stanzas,  which  may  be 
regarded  as  of  a  fair  average  with  the  wisdom  and  poetry 
both,  contained  in  the  copy  preserved  in  the  family. 
The  calendar  of  each  month  is  preceded  by  a  stanza. 

The  stanza  for  January  is  as  follows  :  — 


IN    ENGLAND    AND    IN    AMERICA.  3 

"  If  thou  be  sick  and  health  would  have, 

The  council  of  the  learned  crave  ; 
If  thou  have  health,  to  keep  thee  so 
Flee  idleness,  as  deadly  foe." 

In  June  he  says  :  — 

"  Drink,  new  or  sweet,  taste  not  at  all, 

For  thereby  grows  no  danger  small ; 
And  to  thyself  such  pastime  take 

As  may,  in  God,  thee  merry  make." 

Thomas,  the  son  or  grandson  of  the  almanac-maker, 
came  to  Boston  in  1640.  He  was  made  a  "  freeman," 
that  is,  in  the  old  meaning  of  the  term,  he  joined  the 
communion  of  a  church,  and  received  a  grant  of  land 
valued  at  £10,  from  the  General  Court.  He  was  the 
owner  of  a  farm  at  Muddy  River,  now  Brookline,  where 
he  died,  September  20,  1656.  His  will,  dated  only  a 
few  days  before  his  death,  is  recorded  in  the  Suffolk 
probate-office.  The  will,  also,  of  his  eldest  son,  Law 
rence,  who  returned  to  England,  unmarried,  is  recorded 
in  the  same  office. 

If  we  may  infer  any  thing  from  the  selection  of 
Thomas  Buckminster's  farm  in  Brookline,  he  must  have 
had  an  eye  for  picturesque  beauty.  His  dwelling  stood 
at  the  foot  of  wooded  heights,  covered  with  a  dense 
shrubbery  and  fringed  all  up  the  rocky  sides  with  delicate 
pensile  branches  and  hanging  vines.  A  rapid,  sparkling 
brook,  descending  from  these  rocky  heights,  ran  past  his 
door,  spreading  out  and  winding  in  the  meadows  in 
front.  Jamaica  Lake,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  em 
bosomed  in  beautiful  undulations  of  hill  and  valley,  slept 
tranquilly  in  full  sight  of  the  house.  Our  forefathers, 
probably,  if  they  had  any  love,  had  little  time  to  culti 
vate  a  taste  for  beautiful  scenery.  With  the  axe  on 


4  ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BUCKMINSTER 

their  shoulders,  or  their  hands  upon  the  plough,  they 
conquered  the  rough  and  sterile  soil,  securing  those  ab 
solute  necessaries  of  life,  food  and  fuel,  before  they  could 
please  the  eye,  or  indulge  the  love  of  natural  beauty. 
Burns,  upon  the  peaceful  hills  of  Scotland,  may  have 
walked  behind  his  plough  in  glory  and  in  joy  ;  but  upon 
the  New  England  hills,  at  that  early  time,  the  ploughman 
must  have  cast  many  an  anxious  look  around,  lest  in  the 
dense  forest,  closely  pressing  upon  the  field,  should  lurk 
the  beast  of  prey,  or  the  more  dangerous  Indian. 

Thomas  Buckminster's  son  Joseph,  the  first  of  the 
family  with  that  Christian  name  in  this  country,  seems  to 
have  succeeded  his  father,  and  to  have  lived  upon  the  farm 
in  Brookline.  His  son  Joseph,  grandson  of  Thomas,  was 
a  man  whose  foot  was  capable  of  making  a  mark  upon  the 
hard  New  England  soil.  His  name  is  first  mentioned 
in  1693,  when  he  became  a  pioneer  in  settling  tlie  town 
of  Frarningham,  and  acted  an  important  part  in  the  estab 
lishment  and  administration  of  the  affairs  of  the  place. 
He  was  then  about  twenty-seven  years  old,  with  great 
physical  powers,  and  great  resolution  and  ardor  of  char 
acter.  He  married  at  an  early  age  Martha  Sharp,  the 
daughter  of  John  Sharp,  of  Muddy  River.  After  his 
removal  to  Framingham,  he  held  successively  all  the 
offices  of  honor  and  trust  in  the  gift  of  his  fellow-towns 
men.  He  was  a  selectman  for  seventeen  years,  and  a 
representative  to  the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts 
Colony  for  twelve  years.  He  held  several  military  com 
missions  ;  was  the  commander  of  a  company  of  grena 
diers  in  Sir  Charles  Hobbie's  regiment  in  the  expedition 
to  Port  Royal,  and  subsequently  had  the  command  of  a 
regiment  of  Colonial  militia,  which  gave  him  the  title  of 
Colonel.  He  settled  and  improved  the  famous  Brinley 


IN    ENGLAND    AND    IN    AMERICA.  5 

farm  of  8GO  acres,  of  which  400  acres  were  under  culti 
vation.  He  sold  it  a  few  years  before  his  death  to 
Francis  Brinley,  Esq.,  for  £8,600  in  bills  of  public 
credit,  and  seems  to  have  been  involved  in  endless  law 
suits.  His  name  is  perpetually  found  in  the  various 
transactions  of  the  town  ;  at  one  time,  in  a  deed  of  gift 
of  half  an  acre  of  ground  adjoining  the  meeting-house 
to  accommodate  the  work-house  and  school-house  ;  at 
another  time,  he  is  allowed  to  make,  and  to  keep  in  or 
der,  a  highway  from  his  house  to  the  meeting-house,  and 
in  consideration  thereof  is  exempted  from  labor  on  the 
other  highways  for  seven  years. 

At  the  building  of  the  first  meeting-house  in  Framing- 
ham,  a  vote  was  passed,  that  Joseph  Buckminster  should 
have  liberty  to  set  up  a  pew,  upon  which  side  of  the 
great  doors  he  pleased.  As,  at  the  same  meeting,  a 
committee  was  chosen  to  seat  the  meeting-house,  —  that 
is,  as  in  early  times  was  the  custom,  to  assign  seats  ac 
cording  to  age,  dignity,  or  the  rate  paid,  —  we  must  infer 
that  the  pew  was  an  honorable  distinction,  or  a  reward 
for  services. 

At  the  building  of  the  second  meeting-house,  some  cir 
cumstances  on  record  betray  the  character  of  the  man, 
and  may  have  been  the  origin  of  an  expression  the  writer 
used  to  hear  in  childhood,  of  the  "  Buckminster  spunk." 
The  phrase,  and  the  quality  perhaps,  have  since  died 
out  of  the  family.  It  appears  that  he  obstinately  op 
posed  for  five  years  the  placing  of  the  meeting-house 
upon  a  piece  of  land  to  which  he  asserted  or  had  a 
just  claim,  for  he  dug  a  cellar  and  drew  timber  upon  it 
for  his  own  use  ;  and  when  timber  for  the  meeting-house 
was  drawn  upon  the  same  land,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  re 
move  it.  After  a  contest  of  five  years,  he  seems  to  have 
1* 


0  ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BT7CKMINSTER 

acted  generously,  or  it  may  be  only  justly  ;  the  records 
merely  say,  that  Colonel  Buckminster  made  a  proposal 
to  the  town  to  make  good  all  the  timber  that  he  had  drawn 
off.  He  would  not  be  compelled,  but  volunteered  this 
act. 

Tradition  represents  him  as  a  large,  athletic,  and  re 
markably  strong  man,  capable  of  lifting  great  weights  and 
of  carrying  heavy  burdens.  It  is  said,  but  it  seems  im 
possible,  that  once,  upon  a  bet,  he  carried  sixteen  bushels 
of  salt  upon  his  shoulders.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a 
stern  and  austere  man,  and  to  have  ruled  among  the  first 
settlers  of  Framingham  with  no  gentle  hand  ;  but  there  is 
no  tradition  that  he  was  ever  accused  of  injustice,  or  of 
reaping  where  he  had  not  sown.  He  was  the  owner  of 
several  slaves  ;  a  negro  woman,  named  Nanny,  was 
valued  at  his  death  at  £  SO. 

His  son  Joseph,  or,  as  he  was  called,  the  second 
Colonel,  was  a  very  different  man,  much  beloved  and  re 
spected,  and  filling  various  offices  of  trust  and  honor  in 
the  gift  of  his  fellow-citizens.  For  twenty-eight  years 
he  was  selectman,  and  held  the  office  of  town-clerk 
more  than  thirty  years.  He  had  the  honor  of  represent 
ing  the  town  of  Framingham  at  the  General  Court  for 
thirty  years,  and  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-four,  after  a 
long  life  of  public  service  and  personal  worth. 

There  is  a  circumstance  connected  with  his  history 
that  will  be  interesting  to  the  friends  of  African  emanci 
pation.  He  was  the  owner  of  several  slaves,  in  one  o( 
whom  he  placed  implicit  confidence,  relying  upon  him  in 
all  delicate  and  confidential  business,  and  placing  in  his 
fidelity,  as  he  said,  more  unwavering  faith  than  in  that  of 
any  white  man.  This  negro,  Prince  Young,  was  distin 
guished  for  his  talents  and  his  moral  qualities,  his  hon- 


IN    ENGLAND    AND    IN    AMERICA.  7 

esty,  temperance,  and  prudence,  and  was  left  with  the 
sole  care  of  a  great  estate,  and  the  management  of  a  large 
farm,  while  his  master  was  absent  at  the  General  Court. 

William  Buckminster,  the  son  of  the  above,  and  the 
third  who  held  the  title  of  Colonel,  was  a  distinguished 
man  in  his  day.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one  he  removed 
to  Barre,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  business  of  agricul 
ture.  He  immediately  gained  the  confidence  and  re 
spect  of  the  people.  His  integrity  made  him  friends, 
and  his  superior  understanding  gave  importance  and  con 
sideration  to  his  political  sentiments.  In  the  great  strug 
gle  between  this  and  the  mother  country,  he  took  a  very 
warm  and  active  part.  Decisive  in  his  measures,  open 
and  undisguised  in  his  friendships,  he  enjoyed  to  an  un 
usual  degree  the  confidence  of  his  fellow-citizens.  He 
signalized  himself  by  his  activity  in  providing  arms  and 
ammunition.  The  minute-men  raised  in  Barre  were 
commanded  by  him,  and  immediately  after  the  first  blood 
was  shed  at  Lexington,  he  marched  his  company  to  Cam 
bridge.  He  was  distinguished  for  prudence  and  bravery 
at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  ;  he  was  on  the  field  the 
whole  day,  and  as  the  Americans  were  retreating  he  re 
ceived  a  ball  in  the  right  shoulder,  that  came  o.ut  at  the 
back.  Although  thus  dangerously  wounded,  he  con 
tinued  in  the  army  till  the  close  of  the  war,  because  of 
the  influence  he  obtained  over  the  minds  of  the  peo 
ple.  It  was  said  of  him,  that  those  who  knew  him  best 
praised  him  most,  for  his  inflexible  integrity  and  spotless 
character. 

With  him  the  military  spirit  ceased,  at  least  in  this 
branch  of  the  family.  His  eldest  brother,  son  of  the 
second  Colonel  Buckminster,  was  born  March,  1720. 
He  was  the  fourth  Joseph  in  direct  succession,  and  the 


ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BUCKMINSTER. 

first  that  entered  the  ministry.  He  was  educated  at 
Harvard  College,  and  received  its  honors  in  1739.  He 
was  ordained  at  Rutland,  Massachusetts,  1742,  and  con 
tinued  "the  faithful  and  laborious  pastor"  of  that  church 
more  than  fifty  years,  highly  respected  for  his  usefulness, 
and  deeply  beloved  and  esteemed  by  his  parish.  Mr. 
Buckrninster  may  be  considered  in  some  degree  a  her 
etic  of  his  day,  as  he  entered  into  controversy  in  support 
of  a  mitigated  form  of  Calvinism.  He  did  not  believe 
that  the  elect  were  elected  to  grace  before  the  founda 
tions  of  the  world,  but  were  elected  from  a  fallen  state, 
and  that  election  was  a  remedy  for  an  existing  evil.  It 
was  not  a  part  of  God's  original  purpose,  but  such  were 
elected  as  most  diligently  used  the  means  of  grace.  The 
decrees  have  no  direct  positive  influence  upon  men. 
They  are  determined  by  motives,  but  act  freely  and 
voluntarily.  Such  was  his  theology. 

These  controversies  were  printed,  but  it  must  demand 
a  great  love  of  ancestral  blood  and  an  enormous  amount 
of  patience  even  to  read  now  what  at  that  and  at  re 
moter  times  was  the  very  milk  upon  which  Christian 
babes  were  fed.  Mr.  Buckminster  is  called,  in  the  theo 
logical  tracts  of  the  time,  a  Sublapsarian.  It  is  a  com 
fort  to  think  that  the  thing  itself  is  not  so  harsh  as  its 
name,  for  it  seems  an  effort  to  soften  the  stern  features 
of  Calvinism,  and  to  mingle  a  little  human  clay  in  the 
iron  and  granite  of  its  image. 


CHAPTER    II. 

JOSEPH  BUCKMINSTER. CHILDHOOD. EDUCATION  AND  RE 
SIDENCE,  AS  TUTOR,  AT  YALE  COLLEGE. FORM  OF  RE 
LIGIOUS  FAITH. 

WE  come  now  to  the  first  immediate  subject  of  these 
memoirs.  Joseph,  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  Buck- 
minster,  minister  of  Rutland,  was  the  fourth  among  nine 
children.  The  eldest,  a  son,  lived  only  a  few  months  ; 
then  followed  two  daughters.  Joseph  was  born  October 
3d,  1751,  receiving  the  ancestral  name,  which  his  elder 
brother  who  died  had  also  borne  during  the  few  months 
of  his  life.  His  mother  was  Lucy  Williams,  daughter 
of  the  Rev.  William  Williams,  of  Weston,  a  direct  de 
scendant,  in  the  fourth  generation,  from  Robert  Williams, 
of  Roxbury,  the  common  ancestor  of  the  wide  family 
of  that  name  spread  through  the  United  States.  Her 
grandfather,  Rev.  William  Williams,  of  Hatfield,  was 
called  a  man  of  great  abilities.  Her  own  mother  was  a 
daughter  of  Solomon  Stoddard,  "  that  great  divine,  who 
was  considered  by  many  as  the  light  of  the  New  England 
churches,  as  John  Calvin  was  of  the  Reformation." 

Rev.  Dr.  Stiles  says,  in  reference  to  him,  "  I  have 
read  all  Mr.  Solomon  Stoddard 's  writings,  but  have 
never  been  able  to  see  in  them  that  strength  of  genius 
some  have  attributed  to  him.  Mr.  Williams  of  Hatfield, 
his  son-in-law,  T  believe  to  have  been  the  greater  man.'' 


10  JOSEPH    BITCKMINSTER. 

President  Edwards  calls  Mr.  Williams  a  man  of  "  unnat 
ural  abilities,"  and  goes  on  to  say,  — "  His  subjects  were 
always  weighty,  and  his  manner  of  teaching  peculiarly 
happy  ;  showing  the  strength  and  accuracy  of  his  judg 
ment,  and  ever  breathing  forth  the  spirit  of  piety  and  the 
deepest  sense  on  his  heart  of  the  things  he  delivered." 
Jonathan  Edwards  was  first-cousin  to  Mr.  Buckminster's 
mother. 

Colonel  William  Williams,  one  of  the  first  settlers  of 
Pittsfield,  was  the  maternal  uncle  of  the  subject  of  this 
memoir.  He  preserved  the  venerable  elm-tree  that  has 
so  long  adorned  the  centre  of  that  town.  It  stood  upon 
land  of  which  he  was  the  owner,  and  one  of  his  work 
men  had  raised  the  axe  to  cut  it  down,  when  he  ordered 
him  to  u  spare  that  ancient  tree."  Its  enormous  growth 
must  have  been  the  slow  work  of  many  centuries.  It 
measures  twenty-three  feet  in  circumference  only  a  short 
distance  from  the  ground,  and  rises  seventy-three  feet 
before  it  puts  out  a  single  limb. 

Of  the  mother  of  Dr.  Buckminster  a  dim  and  indis 
tinct  image  remains  in  the  childish  memory  of  the  writer. 
After  the  death  of  her  husband,  she  came  to  spend  the 
last  years  of  her  life  near  her  son,  in  Portsmouth.  She 
was  tall,  with  rather  masculine  features,  and  in  the  mind 
of  the  writer  she  has  left  the  impression  of  a  stern  and 
rather  austere  nature.  It  is  remembered  that  she  sat 
constantly  in  her  easy-chair,  usually  with  a  book  in  her 
hand,  and  that  no  noise  was  permitted  in  her  presence. 
Her  son,  whatever  were  his  avocations,  never  omitted 
visiting  her  a  single  day,  and  the  grandchildren  were  often 
sent  to  receive  her  blessing. 

Descended  thus,  on  the  mother's  side,  from  a  family  of 
distinguished  intellect  and  piety,  the  eldest  son  was  from 


CHILDHOOD.  11 

his  birth  intended  for  the  ministry.  The  early  years  of 
his  life  were,  however,  spent  in  those  hardy  labors  of 
the  farm,  in  open  country  air,  that  are  so  essential  to  in 
vigorate  the  frame  and  strengthen  the  constitution.  The 
healthful  breezes  of  the  hills  of  Rutland  must  have  done 
much  towards  expanding  his  vigorous  frame,  which  was 
remarkable  for  its  symmetrical  development,  for  the 
ease  and  elasticity  of  all  its  motions,  for  gracefulness 
and  freedom  of  action,  which  continued  to  distinguish 
him  through  life.  He  used  to  delight  to  tell  his  children 
of  the  country  sports  of  his  boyhood.  Once,  in  pursuit 
of  squirrels,  he  was  lost  in  the  forest,  and,  with  another 
boy,  slept,  like  the  babes  in  the  wood,  upon  heaped-up 
fallen  leaves.  The  alarmed  and  anxious  friends  were  all 
night  in  pursuit,  and  the  boys  were  near  perishing  from 
fatigue  and  hunger. 

Another  accident  that  happened  in  his  boyhood,  which 
his  children  often  heard  him  refer  to,  made  a  deep  im 
pression  upon  his  mind.  He  was  ten  years  old,  and 
after  the  labors  of  the  hay-field,  full  of  boyish  spirits,  he 
was  jumping  upon  the  top  of  the  loaded  wain,  as  it  was 
returning  to  the  hay-loft.  A  false  step  threw  him  to  the 
ground,  and  the  wheels  of  the  heavily  laden  cart  passed 
directly  over  his  neck  !  He  held  a  pitchfork  in  his 
hand,  and  it  so  happened  that  the  handle  of  the  pitchfork 
fell  in  exactly  the  position  to  support  the  wheel  as  it 
turned  over  him.  This  almost  miraculous  preservation 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  his  young  mind,  and  he 
asked  himself  with  deep  earnestness  for  what  he  had  been 
saved,  —  thus  held  back  from  the  very  threshold  of  death. 
He  said  to  his  children,  that,  long  after,  he  never  closed 
his  eyes  to  sleep  without  a  vivid  remembrance  of  the 
emotion  of  that  agitating  moment,  and  that,  in  after  life,  it 
was  never  forgotten. 


12  EDUCATION  AT  YALE  COLLEGE. 

His  heart  was  very  tender  in  his  boyhood.  An  anec 
dote  once  related  to  his  children  made  a  strong  impres 
sion  upon  the  writer,  as  a  proof  of  that  tenderness  and 
susceptibility  of  feeling  which  enabled  him  through  life  to 
enter  intimately  into  the  feelings  of  the  afflicted,  and  to 
be  so  truly  a  comforter  to  his  people  in  his  ministry. 
His  elder  sister  married  while  he  was  yet  a  boy,  and  re 
moved  with  her  husband  to  the  then  remote  region  of 
Ohio.  This  separation,  the  first  breach  in  the  family 
circle,  was  so  deeply  felt  by  the  young  Joseph,  that  he 
spent  the  whole  day  after  her  departure  alone  in  the 
hay-loft,  weeping  bitter  tears,  unable  to  eat,  and  refusing 
to  be  comforted. 

I  am  not  acquainted  with  the  place  or  the  manner  in 
which  Dr.  Buckminster's  preparatory  studies  were  com 
pleted,  but  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  entered  Yale  College. 
It  was  probably  through  the  influence  of  his  mother's 
relatives,  the  Williamses  and  Stoddards,  that  he  received 
his  education  at  New  Haven,  rather  than  at  Cambridge, 
as  his  father  had  been  a  son  of  Harvard.  He  was  not 
repelled  from  Harvard  College  because  it  was  of  a  more 
liberal  theology  ;  for  even  had  it  been  so,  his  father,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  not  one  of  the  strictest  among  Calvinists. 
His  maternal  uncle,  the  Rev.  Elisha  Williams,  had  been 
Rector  of  Yale  College  not  many  years  previous,  and 
this  circumstance  may  have  decided  for  him. 

A  contemporary  testifies,  that,  while  an  undergraduate, 
he  was  distinguished  for  the  sweetness  of  his  disposition, 
for  his  exemplary  moral  deportment,  and  as  one  of  the 
best  linguists  in  his  class.  He  was  a  very  accomplished 
Latin  scholar,  and  continued  through  life  to  write  in  that 
language  almost  as  readily  as  in  English.  Many  of  his 
familiar  letters  to  his  son  are  written  in  Latin.  His  love 


EDUCATION  AT  YALE  COLLEGE.  13 

for  classical  studies  was  hardly  impaired  amid  the  ar 
duous  duties  of  his  profession.  Although  devoted  by 
inclination  and  duty  to  the  studies  connected  with  his 
sacred  office,  and  engaged  heart  and  soul  by  preference 
for  the  Bible,  yet  Virgil  and  Cicero  continued  to  lie 
upon  his  study  table.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  addressing 
familiar  questions  and  simple  household  orders  to  his 
daughters  in  Latin,  and  then  of  explaining  them  or  giving 
them  the  dictionary  to  find  them  out  ;  thus  a  few  Latin 
sentences  became  quite  familiar  to  them. 

In  1770,  Joseph  Buckminster  received  the  honors  of 
the  bachelor's  degree,  and  was  one  of  the  three  most  distin 
guished  and  accomplished  scholars  who  we're  chosen  upon 
the  Berkeley  foundation  to  continue  three  years  longer 
at  the  College,  pursuing  such  studies  as  they  might  select 
for  themselves,  all  expenses  being  paid  by  the  fund  pro 
vided  for  that  purpose.  "  That  he  devoted  himself  to 
theological  studies,"  says  a  son  of  Yale,  "must  have 
been  from  a  high  spirituality  of  feeling,  as  the  religious 
state  of  the  College  was  very  low  at  that  period."  There 
were  also  prizes  provided  by  the  Berkeleian  fund  for  dis 
tinction  in  certain  studies.  "  The  Dictionary  of  Arts  and 
Sciences,"  in  four  quarto  volumes,  was  the  prize  adjudged 
to  him,  and  always  remained  upon  the  shelves  of  his 
library. 

The  advantages  of  these  three  years  of  added  study 
must  have  been  in  proportion  to  the  merit  by  which  they 
were  obtained  ;  and  among  the  names  of  those  who  suc 
ceeded  to  this  distinction,  we  find  some  of  the  most 
honored  of  our  country.  Silas  Deane,  the  Hon.  Abra 
ham  Hillhouse,  and  Stephen  Mitchell  preceded  him,  and 
among  his  contemporaries  were  President  D  wight  and  the 
Hon.  John  Davenport.  Both  of  the  last  were  his  warm 
2 


14  EDUCATION  AT  YALE  COLLEGE. 

personal  friends,  whose  attachment  continued  through 
life.  Both  visited  the  humble  parsonage  of  their  fellow- 
student  within  the  memory  of  the  writer  ;  the  one  accom 
panied  by  his  son,  the  other  by  his  wife.  To  her  inex 
perience  of  life  the  one  appeared  to  possess  the  lofty 
politeness,  the  priestly  dignity,  of  the  Bishop  of  London, 
as  made  known  by  the  pen  of  Hannah  More  ;  the  other 
resembled  the  only  hero  of  romance  then  familiar  to  her 
imagination,  Sir  Charles  Grandison. 

The  epic  bards  of  our  country,  Barlow,  Trumbull, 
and  Dwight,  were  also  fellow-students  and  personal  friends 
of  Mr.  Buckminster.  Numerous  copies  of  the  epics  of 
these  poets,  the  Vision  of  Columbus  and  the  Conquest 
of  Canaan,  were  arranged  upon  the  study  shelves  of 
their  friend,  probably  subscription  copies,  remaining  from 
year  to  year  in  undisturbed  quiet.  If  a  child,  prompted 
by  curiosity,  opened  a  volume,  the  unattractive  page  was 
restored  again  to  its  repose,  there  to  gather  the  dust  of 
age  ;  but  there  is  no  old  mortality  that  can  ever  conse 
crate  and  make  venerable  poetry  that  has  in  itself  so  little 
merit. 

The  three  years  of  literary  instruction  for  which  Dr. 
Buckminster  was  indebted  to  Bishop  Berkeley  demand  a 
tribute  of  gratitude  from  one  so  nearly  connected  with 
him.  According  to  every  account  that  has  come  down 
to  us,  Bishop  Berkeley  was  one  of  the  noblest  and  purest 
of  the  benefactors  of  the  human  race.  Pope's  ascrip 
tion,  "To  Berkeley  every  virtue  under  heaven,"  however 
comprehensive,  is  too  general  to  give  a  true  idea  of  the 
refined  spirituality  of  his  mind,  the  benignity  and  disin 
terested  generosity  of  his  disposition. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  singular  coincidences  of  literary 
history  that  Bishop  Berkeley  should  have  derived  a  large 


EDUCATION  AT  YALE  COLLEGE.  15 

part  of  his  fortune  from  Mrs.  Vanhomrigb,  the  cele 
brated  Vanessa  so  long  attached  to  Dean  Swift.  She 
removed  to  Ireland  for  the  purpose  of  enjoying  the  soci 
ety  of  the  person  for  whom  she  cherished  the  most  sin 
gular  attachment.  But  rinding  herself  totally  neglected, 
and  suspecting  Swift's  connection  with  Stella,  she  was  so 
wounded  or  enraged  that  she  altered  her  intention  of 
making  him  her  heir,  and  left  the  whole  of  her  property 
to  two  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  was  Bishop  Berkeley, 
then  nearly  a  total  stranger  to  her.  Thus  from  the 
caprice  of  a  woman  resulted  a  singular  good-fortune  to 
many  of  the  other  sex,  even  more  remotely  strangers  to 
Vanessa  than  was  the  original  legatee. 

Bishop  Berkeley  was  most  unostentatious  in  his  be 
nevolence,  doing  good  by  stealth,  and  blushing  to  find  it 
fame.  His  first  object,  that  to  which  he  devoted  all  his 
energies,  was  the  promotion  of  education  in  t  e  New 
World.  For  this  purpose,  he  resigned  the  Deanery  of 
Derry,  worth  £1100  a  year,  to  dedicate  the  remainder 
of  his  life,  with  only  a  salary  of  a  hundred  pounds  yearly, 
to  the  instruction  of  the  youth  of  America.  Such  was 
the  eloquence  of  this  enthusiast,  that  he  persuaded  three 
of  the  fellows  of  Trinity  College  to  embark  their  fortunes 
with  him,  and  to  give  up  all  their  prospects  of  preferment 
at  home  for  the  small  salary  of  £  40  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  He  intended  to  establish  a  college  in  what 
were  called  the  Summer  Isles,*  Bermuda  being  the 
island  chosen  for  its  location. 

The  project  of  a  college  in  Bermuda  failed,  but  Bishop 
Berkeley,  as  is  well  known,  came  to  Newport  in  Rhode 
Island,  where  he  purchased  a  country  seat  and  cultivated 

*  So  called  in  the  Life  of  Berkeley. 


16  TUTOR    AT    NEW    HAVEN. 

a  farm,  waiting  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  contracts  about 
the  college.  These  failing,  he  returned,  with  deep  dis 
appointment,  to  England,  and  sent  from  thence  a  deed  of 
his  valuable  farm  in  Rhode  Island  to  Yale  College,  the 
rents  of  which  were  appropriated  to  the  support  and 
instruction  of  the  three  best  scholars  in  Greek  and  Latin, 
selected  from  each  class  as  it  graduated,  who  must  reside 
at  the  College  at  least  nine  months  of  the  three  succes 
sive  years,  as  a  condition  of  the  bounty. 

At  the  close  of  the  three  years  of  study,  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster  was  appointed  tutor,  and  held  the  office  four  years. 
Dr.  D wight  was  fellow-tutor  with  him  for  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  period.  The  same  contemporary  referred 
to  above  says, — cc  He  was  much  esteemed  by  his  brothers 
in  office,  and  was  universally  beloved  and  respected  by 
the  young  gentlemen  who  had  the  happiness  to  be  under 
his  instruction."  The  year  before  his  connection  with 
the  College,  as  tutor,  ceased,  in  consequence  of  the  agi 
tated  state  of  the  country  and  the  dangers  to  which  the 
seaports  were  subjected,  the  institution  was  disbanded, 
and  the  students  scattered  in  various  places,  each  class 
under  the  direction  of  its  respective  tutor. 

I  regret  that  so  few  anecdotes  of  this  interesting  period 
of  his  life  remain  in  my  memory.  He  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  talking  much  of  his  early  life,  and  I  had  not 
reached  that  period  when  we  begin  to  look  back,  and 
when,  the  present  not  sufficing  for  the  wants  of  the  soul, 
we  wish  to  learn  from  the  experiences  and  the  trials  of 
those  who  have  gone  before  us. 

Thus  eleven  years  of  a  life  not  very  long  in  its  whole 
duration  were  spent  in  New  Haven.  An  attachment  to 
Alma  Mater,  to  the  town  of  New  Haven,  and  to  Con 
necticut  itself,  was  formed,  that  lasted  through  life.  He 


TUTOR    AT    NEW    HAVEN.  17 

was  often  heard  to  say, — "My  place  was  there.  I  always 
wished  that  State  to  be  my  home,  but  Providence  has 
directed  rny  line  of  duty  far  away  from  the  place  of  my 
first  affections."  The  limited  salary  of  a  clergyman, 
and  the  large  "family,  more  than  usually  thrown  upon  the 
father's  care,  rarely  allowed  him  the  recreation  of  a  jour 
ney.  Four  years  before  his  death,  when  the  failing  health 
of  one  of  his  children  seemed  to  impose  it  as  a  duty,  a 
journey  to  New  Haven  was  a  bright  interval  between  the 
cares  of  life,  a  season  of  uninterrupted  cheerfulness. 
The  companion  of  that  journey  had  till  then  never  known 
of  what  cheerfulness,  even  gayety,  her  father's  spirits 
were  susceptible,  as  when  expanding  at  the  meeting  of 
old  friends,  renewing  youthful  reminiscences  with  class 
mates,  recalling  half-forgotten  college  anecdotes,  and  re 
viving  all  those  care-free  associations  that  make  of  college 
days  an  oasis  left  in  the  far-off  pathway  of  life. 

Dr.  Buckminster's  whole  residence  at  New  Haven 
was  during  the  Presidency  of  Dr.  Daggett.  The  coun 
try  was  agitated  by  the  intense  excitement  of  the  war  of 
the  Revolution,  and  the  College  partook  of  the  distress 
that  marked  the  beginning  and  progress  of  that  fearful 
conflict  ;  circumstances  ill  adapted  to  the  quiet  of  literary 
pursuits.  Yet  there  was  no  period  in  the  history  of  the 
College  more  fruitful  in  eminent  men  in  every  department 
of  wisdom,  and  the  classes  of  1777  and  1778  were  much 
larger  than  those  of  the  previous  years,  and  contained  a 
large  proportion  of  men  distinguished  in  the  councils  of 
the  nation  and  famous  in  the  annals  of  science. 

During  the  time  of  his  residence  at  New  Haven,  he 

passed  through  a  season  of  deep  mental  distress,  under 

conviction  of  his  great  sinfulness,  and  sank  almost  entirely 

into  a  state  of  despair.     In  a  person  of  such  deep  and 

2* 


18  CONVERSION. 

tender  sensibility,  his  suffering  must  have  been  much  ex 
aggerated  by  his  tendency  to  nervous  depression  ;  and  it 
must  always  be  difficult  to  discriminate  how  much  of  this 
distress  arises  from  the  real  state  of  the  heart,  and  how 
much  from  the  imagination  and  a  morbid  self-condemna 
tion.  The  mysteries  of  the  soul  must  be  left  to  be 
judged  by  the  great  Source  of  all  spiritual  illumination. 
In  the  words  of  a  contemporary,  "As  he  obtained  a  glo 
rious  hope,  and  passed  from  death  to  life,  he  determined 
to  consecrate  his  time,  his  talents,  and  his  acquirements 
to  the  interest  and  cause  of  the  Redeemer.  He  read 
the  whole  of  Turretinus  in  the  original,  with  great  satis 
faction  ";  and  it  was  then  that  he  drew  up  the  confession 
of  faith  and  form  of  self-dedication  that  follows,  and 
decided  to  devote  the  whole  strength  of  his  mind  to 
preparing  himself  for  that  profession  which  became  the 
dearest  object  and  the  ultimate  cause  of  the  most  intense 
*  devotion  of  his  life. 

I  seem  almost  to  wrong  Dr.  Buckminster  in  saying 
that  the  ministry  was  his  profession.  It  was  his  life. 
The  cause  of  his  Master  was  his  own  cause.  He  con 
sidered  the  office  of  a  minister,  a  preacher  of  the  word 
of  life,  the  most  honorable  in  the  world  ;  and  that  the 
learning,  the  talents,  the  acquirements  of  the  most  gifted 
minds  were  all  too  little  to  be  devoted  to  its  interests. 
To  spend  and  be  spent  in  the  cause  of  religion  were 
words  often  in  his  mouth,  and  the  most  devoted  purpose 
of  his  life.  His  religious  convictions  and  his  religious 
studies  resulted  in  the  following  form  of  faith,  as  the 
reader  will  perceive,  wholly  Calvinistic.  At  the  time 
when  he  settled  at  Portsmouth,  it  was  not  asked  if  a  min 
ister  were  orthodox,  but  only  if  he  were  sincere  and 
devout.  There  is  some  reason  to  believe,  that,  at  the 


FORM    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH. 

time  he  settled,  or  soon  afterward,  his  views  were  some 
what  modified  ;  but  like  his  honored  predecessor  whom 
he  immediately  succeeded,  "hisjheart  was  of  no  sect." 

"  I  believe  that  there  is  a  God,  subsisting  in  three  persons, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  possessing  all  perfection  ;  infi 
nitely  holy,  just,  wise,  and  powerful ;  true,  gracious,  and  com 
passionate  ;  in  whom  alone  every  thing  that  is  amiable  and 
lovely  centres,  and  from  whom  the  happiness  of  reasonable 
creatures  must  proceed.  That  this  God  made  all  worlds,  and 
rules  and  governs  them  by  his  power  and  providence,  so  that 
the  smallest  event  does  not  happen  but  by  his  permission. 
That  he  brought  man  into  being,  formed  after  his  image,  and 
capable  of  knowing  and  loving  and  enjoying  God,  and  of  ren 
dering  him  that  honor  and  glory  which  was  his  due.  That 
God  entered  into  covenant  with  this  first  man,  and,  in  him, 
with  his  posterity  :  the  conditions  of  this  covenant  were,  that, 
if  he  continued  in  his  allegiance,  and  abstained  from  the  fruit 
of  a  particular  tree,  (which  was  denied  him  as  a  test  of  his 
obedience,)  he  and  his  posterity  should  be  confirmed  in  life  ; 
but  that  the  day  he  ate  thereof  he  should  surely  die,  —  he, 
and  his  posterity  in  him. 

"  But  man  broke  this  covenant,  and  exposed  himself  and 
his  posterity  to  the  threatened  punishment,  lost  the  original 
rectitude  of  his  nature,  and  became  the  instrument  of  com 
municating  a  corrupt  nature  to  his  descendants.  In  this 
state  God  might  have  left  him  to  suffer  the  wages  of  his  folly. 
But  God,  who  exalted  himself  to  show  mercy,  having  from 
all  eternity  chosen  some  of  this  fallen  race  to  salvation, 
through  sanctification  of  the  spirit  and  belief  of  the  truth,  did 
disclose  a  way  in  which  his  broken  law  might  be  repaired, 
his  justice  satisfied,  and  the  offenders  saved ;  (but,  as  a  God 
was  offended,  so  a  God  must  suffer.)  The  second  person  in 
the  sacred  Three,  the  eternal  Son  of  God,  voluntarily  offered 
to  stand  in  man's  stead,  and  suffer  the  punishment  which  he 


20  FORM    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH. 

had  merited.  He  is  accepted  by  the  Father,  and,  upon  con 
dition  that  he  satisfied  the  demands  of  justice,  it  was  prom 
ised  that  he  should  bring  those  to  the  enjoyment  of  God  who 
were  from  all  eternity  chosen  by  him. 

"  I  believe  that  this  Divine  person,  when  the  time  appoint 
ed  came,  descended  to  this  world,  took  human  nature,  and 
was  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  without  sin.  That  he  perfect 
ly  obeyed  the  law  of  God,  and,  suffering  the  penalty  of  man's 
sin,  was  crucified  by  the  Jews  ;  that  he  died,  was  buried,  and 
on  the  third  day  rose  again,  and  ascended  into  heaven  ;  re 
ceived  the  approbation  of  his  Father,  and  is  seated  at  his  right 
hand. 

"  I  believe  that  this  same  Jesus  shall  come  again  to  judge 
the  world,  attended  with  his  holy  angels,  and  that  all  those 
that  have  ever  lived,  together  with  those  who  shall  be  then 
found  alive,  shall  be  summoned  before  his  bar,  to  receive 
according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body.  And,  according 
as  they  are  found  to  have  accepted  the  mercy  offered  in 
the  Gospel,  and  have  thereby  become  interested  in  the  right 
eousness  of  Christ,  or  to  have  despised  this  mercy  and  ob 
tained  no  interest  in  this  righteousness,  so  they  shall  be  re 
ceived  to  everlasting  happiness,  or  be  thrust  down  to  ever 
lasting  misery,  in  the  place  where  the  worm  dieth  not  and 
the  fire  is  not  quenched. 

"  I  believe  that  all  mankind  are  naturally  in  a  state  of 
death ;  that  they  have  an  aversion  to  God  and  his  law ;  that 
the  seeds  of  evil  lie  in  the  heart,  and  that  it  is  owing  to  the 
restraining  grace  of  God  that  they  do  not  break  forth  in 
gross  acts  of  impiety;  that  unless  man  is  recovered  from 
this  state,  and  his  temper  and  disposition  entirely  changed, 
he  never  can  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 

"  I  believe  that  man  is  absolutely  unable  to  produce  this 
change  ;  that  it  is  the  work  of  the  Spirit  to  renew  and  change 
the  heart,  to  bring  sin  to  remembrance,  and  to  discover  to 
the  mind  its  deformity  and  lead  to  godly  sorrow,  which  works 


FORM    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH.  21 

repentance  unto  life,  never  to  be  repented  of:  yet  it  is  the 
duty  of  all  persons  to  strive  to  obtain  this  change,  and  wait 
upon  God  in  all  his  institutions;  as  it  is  in  this  way  that 
grace  is  most  commonly  bestowed,  faith  coming  by  hearing, 
and  hearing  by  the  word  of  God. 

"  I  believe  that  it  is  by  faith  alone  that  we  become  inter 
ested  in  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  and  entitled  to  the  bene 
fits  of  his  purchase  ;  that  this  faith  is  the  gift  of  God,  and 
not  given  on  account  of  any  merit  in  the  recipient,  but  of  the 
free  mercy  and  grace  of  God  ;  and  that  this  faith  does  not 
entitle  to  salvation  on  account  of  any  merit  that  there  is  in 
it:  the  righteousness  of  Christ  is  the  only  ground  of  justifica 
tion,  and  the  meritorious  cause  of  our  acceptance  with  God  ; 
but  this  faith  is  the  means  of  our  becoming  interested  in  this 
righteousness,  and  a  qualification  that  must  be  found  in  us  in 
order  to  our  being  accepted. 

"I  believe  that  those  who  are  once  savingly  illumined, and 
brought  home  to  God  by  his  blessed  Spirit,  and  have  been 
led  to  embrace  Christ  in  the  arms  of  faith,  and  love  and  trust 
his  merits  for  their  pardon,  justification,  and  complete  salva 
tion,  shall  never  fail  of  it ;  but  He  that  hath  begun  a  good 
work  in  them  shall  carry  it  on  till  the  day  of  judgment,  nor 
shall  any  thing  pluck  them  out  of  his  hand. 

"  I  believe  that  God  is  willing  to  receive  into  covenant  with 
him  all  those  who  have  been  his  enemies,  and  who,  like  the 
prodigal  son,  have  spent  their  living  in  riot  and  debauchery, 
if  they  sincerely  repent,  hate  their  former  conduct,  and  turn 
unto  God  with  their  whole  heart.  Whosoever  cometh  unto 
me,  saith  our  Saviour,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out. 

"  Under  a  full  and  firm  persuasion  of  these  things,  I,  who 
acknowledge  myself  the  greatest  of  sinners,  having  offended 
my  Maker,  reproached  my  Redeemer,  and  grieved  his  Holy 
Spirit,  —  yet  knowing  that  God  delighteth  not  in  the  death  of  a 
sinner,  but  would  rather  that  he  should  turn  from  his  wicked 
way  and  live,  forsake  his  own  thoughts,  and  turn  unto  the 


22  FORM    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH. 

Lord,  who  hath  promised  that  he  will  have  mercy,  and  to  our 
God,  who  will  abundantly  pardon,  —  desiring  to  rely  upon  the 
great  propitiatory  sacrifice  through  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for 
acceptance,  —  I  would  now  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  in 
the  presence  of  God  and  of  the  holy  angels,  dedicate  and  de 
vote  myself  to  God  with  all  that  he  hath  been  pleased  to  be 
stow  upon  me,  or  shall  permit  me  hereafter  to  enjoy,  know 
ing  that  other  lords  have  had  dominion  over  me,  and  that 
I  have  served  other  gods.  I  desire  now  to  renounce  them 
all  and  avow  the  Lord  Jehovah,  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost,  to  be  my  God  and  portion ;  giving  myself  up  to  the 
Father,  as  my  Creator,  who  gave  me  every  thing  I  pos 
sess,  who  hath  watched  over  me  all  my  life,  and  with  a  lib 
eral  hand  hath  dispensed  his  favors,  praying  that  he  would 
consecrate  to  himself  all  the  ability  I  have  to  serve  him, 
whether  natural  or  acquired.  I  would  give  myself  up  to  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  to  my  glorious  and  exalted  Redeemer, 
through  whom  alone  there  is  hope  of  salvation,  and,  renoun 
cing  all  my  own  works  as  filthy  rags,  would  trust  solely  and 
entirely  to  his  righteousness  as  the  meritorious  cause  of  my 
justification  and  acceptance  with  God ;  in  which  I  hope  to 
be  interested  by  its  being  freely  imputed  to  me,  which  God 
of  his  own  mercy  shall  be  pleased  to  bestow  upon  me.  I 
would  give  up  myself  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  my  sanctifier, 
enabling  me  to  hate,  loathe,  and  abhor  sin,  and  to  flee  from  it, 
shunning  the  least  appearance  of  evil.  I  would  give  up  my 
self  to  the  sacred  Three  in  One,  and  One  in  Three,  as  to  that 
Being  who  has  the  sole  right  and  title  to  me.  I  would  re 
ceive  the  word  of  God  as  the  rule  of  my  conduct,  and  believe 
whatever  God  hath  said,  though  it  be  above  my  comprehen 
sion,  knowing  that  what  God  hath  said  is  true,  though  finite 
capacity  cannot  say  how.  I  would  trust  to  God  for  spiritual 
illumination,  that  I  may  be  able  to  understand  spiritual  things, 
and  to  receive  instruction  from  him  with  respect  to  what  I 
ought  to  believe  and  practise. 


NERVOUS    DEPRESSION.  23 

"  Knowing  my  proneness  to  transgress  and  disobey  the 
commands  of  God,  the  temptations  that  attend  me,  both  with 
in  and  without,  from  my  own  wicked  heart  and  the  subtle 
adversary  of  souls,  I  would  exercise  all  watchfulness  over 
myself,  but  trust  solely  to  the  Captain  of  my  salvation  to 
secure  me  from  falling,  to  enable  me  to  conquer  all  my 
spiritual  enemies,  and  to  resolve,  by  his  grace  assisting  me, 
I  will  maintain  a  constant  fight  with  every  indwelling  cor 
ruption,  and  walk  in  all  the  commandments  and  ordinances 
of  the  Lord,  and  place  a  double  guard  against  those  sins  to 
which  I  am  most  inclined. 

"  And  now,  O  that  the  merciful  God,  who  is  a  God  of 
compassion,  and  who  delighteth  not  in  the  death  of  a  sinner, 
would  accept  of  me  as  his  unworthy  servant,  and  make  me 
one  of  his  family  ;  grant  me  the  spirit  of  adoption,  and  ratify 
in  heaven  what  I  have  attempted  to  do  on  earth ;  make  me 
sincere  and  steadfast  in  this  covenant,  that  this  transaction 
may  be  remembered  with  joy  and  not  with  regret,  when  I 
shall  stand  before  his  righteous  tribunal !  Then  may  it  not 
be  an  aggravating  circumstance  in  my  condemnation  that  I 
have  dealt  deceitfully  with  God,  or  forgotten  this  covenant 
of  my  youth.  JOSEPH  BUCKMINSTER." 

It  was  at  this  period  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  life  that  he 
suffered  the  first  attack  of  mental  despondency,  a  form 
of  nervous  disease  which  followed  him  at  intervals,  with 
greater  or  less  severity,  through  the  whole  of  his  life. 
This  moral  depression,  or  spiritual  darkness,  often  whol 
ly  unattended  by  mental  delusion,  which  has  been  thought 
to  be  occasioned  by  gloomy  views  of  religion,  is  now 
universally  admitted  by  men  of  medical  science  to  be 
induced  by  some  impenetrable  derangement  of  the  del 
icate  structure  of  the  nerves.  Religion,  which  should 
ever  be  the  fountain  of  joy  and  happiness,  is  relieved 


24  NERVOUS    DEPRESSION. 

from  the  unjust  suspicion  of  being  the  parent  of  gloom 
and  melancholy. 

Such  disease  is  now  better  understood  than  it  was  fifty 
years  ago,  but  it  still  defies  the  scrutiny  of  the  most  saga 
cious  science,  and  the  alleviation  of  the  most  tender  hu 
manity.      The  mind  and  the  body  partake  equally  of  the 
depression  ;   the  former  loses  its  energy,  and   the  latter 
becomes  emaciated  and  weak.      But,  while  the  delusion 
of  imaginary  infirmity  is  so  strong,  the  patient  is  often 
relieved  by  the  reality.      A  serious  attack  of  illness,  or 
a  certain  degree  of  criminality,  could  it  be  attached  to 
the  conscience,  would  alleviate  the  imaginary  ills  of  the 
victim  ;  but  alas  !  this  insidious  enemy  preys  upon  con 
sciences  of  the   purity  of  childhood,    and   health  often 
robust  and  vigorous.      The  imagination  usually  fixes  upon 
personal  unworthiness,   and  exaggerates  venial  offences 
into   the  darkest   crimes,    charging    the    innocent   con 
science  with  every  species  of  offence,  with  every  imag 
inable  sin,  till  it  is  persuaded  of  its  irreparable  condition. 
To  them,  the  door  of  pardon  is  for  ever  closed  ;   hope 
never  comes  to  them,  that  comes  to  all  beside.     At  the 
same  time,  the  victim's  demands  upon  himself  are  of  the 
most  inexorable  severity,  while  the  will  is  prostrate  and 
powerless  to  perform,  and,  the  imagination  cruelly  excited 
at  the  disparity  between  the  demand  and  the  performance, 
the  reason  sinks  before  it,  and  the  victim  is  overwhelmed 
with  despair.     At  this  stage  of  the  disease,  he  can  see 
no  relief  but  in  death,  upon  which  the  most  timid  spirit 
often  rushes  with  frantic  eagerness.      The  young,  whose 
prospects  are  cloudless,  and  upon  whose  life  has  fallen 
no  shade  of  sorrow,  are  often  the  prey  of  this  nameless 
misery.      Let  them,  if  possible,  not  despair.      Time,  the 
healer  of  the  heaviest  real  sorrows,  is  no  less  merciful  in 


NERVOUS    DEPRESSION.  25 

his  ministrations  to  the  wounded  spirit  ;  and  the  time  will 
assuredly  come,  when  they  will  look  back  upon  this  afflic 
tion  as  upon  the  morning  clouds  that  have  rolled  away 
and  left  the  dew  of  their  youth  bright  upon  them. 

Cowper,  from  his  exquisite  gifts  and  the  singular  puri 
ty  of  his  life,  has  been  the  most  prominent  example  of 
this  unhappy  malady  ;  and  experience  has  shown,  that 
the  most  delicate  organizations,  consciences  of  the  most 
tender  susceptibility,  whose  purity  has  never  been  stained 
by  an  unjust  deed  or  a  guilty  thought,  are  the  most  liable 
to  this  fear  of  personal  unworthiness,  that  will  shut  them 
for  ever  from  the  presence  of  God. 

In  Cowper,  as  in  many  others,  the  innocent  and  tender 
spirit  was  entangled  in  the  sombre  and  gloomy  tenets  that 
have  been  engrafted  upon  the  mild  and  love-speaking 
doctrines  of  Jesus,  and  from  this  reason,  perhaps,  religion, 
or  a  certain  form  of  religious  faith,  has  been  assigned  as 
the  unhappy  cause  of  this  form  of  nervous  disease  ;  but 
every  form  of  faith  may  be  equally  charged,  and  equally 
exonerated  from  the  charge.  The  Catholic,  —  who  in 
vests  his  confessor  or  his  saint  with  the  responsibility  of  his 
conscience, —  the  Unitarian,  and  the  Universalist  have 
no  immunity  from  the  delusions  of  the  imagination,  or  the 
dominion  of  this  giant  of  despair.  Appeals  to  the  reason 
and  to  the  conscience,  the  soothing  voice  of  friendship 
•  and  love,  the  administration  of  the  tenderest  consolations, 
do  but  strengthen  the  bands  of  their  wretchedness.  Let 
not  these  delusions  of  the  afflicted  spirit  be  charged  upon 
any  form  of'  that  blessed  religion  whose  spirit  in  all  its 
applications  is  the  consoler  and  strengthener  of  the  heart 
of  man. 

3 


CHAPTER    III. 

DR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  SETTLEMENT  IN  PORTSMOUTH,  NEW  HAMP 
SHIRE. REMINISCENCES  OF  THE  PISCATAQUA  ASSOCIA 
TION  OF  MINISTERS. THEIR  MEETINGS.  —  MISSION  A  51  V 

MAGAZINE. PRAYER-BOOK    FOR    THE    USE    OF    FAMILIES. 

HAVING  received  a  unanimous  invitation  from  the 
parish,  Dr.  Buckminster  was  ordained  over  the  North 
Church  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  January  27. 
1779.  He  succeeded  two  distinguished  pastors,  Drs. 
Langdon  and  Stiles,  who  had  been  successively  removed 
to  become  presidents,  the  one  of  Harvard,  the  oilier  of 
Yale  College.  They  were  both  remarkable  men,  and 
Dr.  Stiles,  the  immediate  predecessor  of  Dr.  Buckmin 
ster,  was  one  of  the  most  learned  scholars  in  the  country. 
In  the  words  of  Dr.  Channing,  "  This  country  has  not. 
perhaps,  produced  a  more  learned  man,  and  his  virtues 
were  proportioned  to  his  intellectual  acquisitions.  In  his 
faith  he  was  a  moderate  Calvinist  ;  but  his  heart  was  of 
no  sect.  He  carried  into  his  religion  the  spirit  of  liberty 
that  then  stirred  the  whole  country."  In  some  respects. 
it  must  have  been  a  great  advantage  to  have  had  such 
predecessors,  but  it  must  also  have  taxed  all  the  energies 
of  mind  and  heart  of  the  young  pastor  to  fill  the  place. 
to  sustain  the  rank  and  to  meet  the  expectations  of  a 
parish  accustomed  to  the  ministrations  of  these  honored 
men.  Dr.  Stiles  was,  besides,  fifty  years  old  when 


SETTLEMENT  IN  PORTSMOUTH.  27 

installed  at  Portsmouth,  and  had  been  a  settled  pastor 
at  Newport  twenty-two  years.  Mr.  Buckminster  was 
twenty-eight,  and  the  previous  eleven  years  had  been 
^pent  in  the  seclusion  of  a  college  life. 

Portsmouth  had  always  been  distinguished  by  its  liber 
ality  of  spirit,  and  its  generosity  to  its  ministers.      Before 
Dr.  Stiles  arrived  among  them,  the  parish  had  thoroughly 
furnished  a  good  house  for  his  reception.      He  remained 
scarcely  a  year,  and  the  young  pastor,  being  single,  need 
ed  no  such  expensive  preparation  ;  but  he  was  received 
with  a  warmth  that  soon  rose  to  enthusiasm.     He  was 
endowed  with  natural  gifts  that  eminently  fitted  him  for 
the  pulpit.     His  voice  was  strong  and  musical,  and  pos 
sessed  the  peculiarity  that  its  lowest  tones  were  singularly 
clear,  and  could  be  distinctly  heard  in  the  remotest  cor 
ner  of  the  vast  meeting-house,  with  its  two  galleries.     He 
took  a  prominent  part  in  the  singing.     His  voice  could 
always  be  distinguished  in  the  full  choir  by  its  purity  and 
bell-like,  silver  sound  ;  and  he  delighted,  in  the  absence 
of  the   ladies  of  the   choir,  to  take   the   contralto   part. 
His   appearance   in   the   pulpit   was   most   dignified  and 
graceful ;  and  when  we  add  to  the  fervor  and  glow  of  his 
devotions,  that  his  whole  manner  was  penetrated  by  a 
peculiar  pathos,  a  deep  feeling,  that  ijjumined  his  counte 
nance  and  trembled  in  the  earnestness  of  his  voice,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  no  one  who  ever  saw  him  in  the  pulpit 
could  forget  the  impression  he  made.      There,   too,  was 
his  chief  joy,  his  most  exhilarating  duty.      "He  prefer 
red  the  dust  of  Zion  to  the  gardens  of  Persia,  and  the 
broken  walls  of  Jerusalem  to  the  palaces  of  Shushan." 
There  were  many  circumstances  connected  with  his 
settlement  in  Portsmouth  that  were  important  to  his  use: 
fulness,  and  agreeable  in  their  influence  ;  others,  that  de- 


28  PISCATAQUA     ASSOCIATION 

termined  the  color  of  his  life  and  wove  the  whole  web  of 
his  joys  and  sorrows.  Among  the  former  was  the  char 
acter  of  the  surrounding  ministers,  with  whom  many  of 
his  social  hours  were  spent,  and  who,  in  the  language  of 
sympathy,  "strengthened  his  hands  and  encouraged  his 
heart."  In  this  connection,  we  must  speak  of  the  Pis- 
cataqua  Association  of  Ministers,  of  whom  it  has  lately 
been  said,  that  "  they  were  almost  all  of  them  picked 
men  ;  such  as  now  would  only  be  found  in  metropolitan 
parishes.  They  were  sufficient,  each  of  himself,  to  give 
a  name  and  a  character  to  the  town  which  enjoyed  his 
services,  and  to  attract  to  his  parsonage  the  most  distin 
guished  men  in  every  walk  of  life."  The  same  eloquent 
writer  adds,  that  "  they  solved  in  practice  the  problem 
of  which  the  key  is  now  lost,  that  of  harmony  of  spirit 
and  cordial  cooperation  amongst  ministers  of  widely  dif 
ferent  creeds."  *  They  were,  indeed,  what  they  called 
each  other,  a  band  of  "  brothers."  The  above  remarks 
were  no  doubt  made  with  some  reference  to  the  state  of 
the  country,  the  estimation  in  which  ministers  were  held, 
and  the  influence  they  exerted  in  the  last  century.  There 
is,  no  doubt,  a  much  higher  degree  of  intellectual  culture 
among  ministers  at  the  present  day,  but  the  range  of 
country  in  which  the  u  Piscataqua  Association  "  was 
found  had  a  much  greater  relative  importance  at  that 
time  ;  and  in  some  instances  the  ministers  were  deemed 
fit  for  more  brilliant  stations.  The  singular  fact,  that  four 
of  the  "Piscataqua  Association"  were  chosen  to  be 
presidents  of  colleges,  proves  that  they  were  appreciated  ; 
-Dr.  Langdon  and  Dr.  Stiles,  Dr.  Appleton,  and  Dr. 


*  Rev.  A.  P.  Peabody,  of   Portsmouth,  in   the  Christian   Examiner 
for  May,  1848,  Vol.  IX.  No.  III.,  Fourth  Series. 


OF    MINISTERS.  29 

Stevens,  of  Kittery  Point.  The  latter  was  chosen  by 
the  Fellows  of  Harvard  College  in  1769,  but  being  sus 
pected  of  a  leaning  to  the  mother  country  in  the  approach 
ing  contest,  the  appointment  was  not  confirmed  by  the 
Overseers. 

The  monthly  meetings  of  the  Association  were  sea 
sons  of  really  cordial  fellowship,  and  of  social  and  animat 
ed  intercourse,  and  were  made  the  medium  of  religious 
instruction  to  their  respective  parishes.  Their  usual 
course  was  to  meet  successively  at  each  brother's  house 
at  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  ;  those  who  lived  at  the 
distance  of  ten  or  fifteen  miles,  in  those  days  of  slow 
travelling  and  country  roads,  were  obliged  to  come  the 
previous  evening.  There  was  a  religious  service  in  the 
meeting-house,  beginning  at  eleven,  at  which  the  exer 
cises  were  assigned  in  rotation,  or  were  appointed  by  the 
brother  at  whose  house  they  met.  The  dinner,  after 
wards,  was  a  truly  social  repast,  where  wit,  and  freedom, 
and  a  moderate  degree  of  gayety  prevailed.  Clergymen, 
when  their  labors  are  over,  enjoy  more  entirely  than  any 
other  class  of  men  the  agreeable  relaxation  that  follows, — 
agreeable  in  kind,  in  its  allowances,  and  in  its  restraints. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  demands  of  twelve 
or  eighteen  ministers  and  their  horses  upon  their  broth 
er's  oats,  and  upon  the  exertions  of  the  family  to  prepare 
a  suitable  dinner,  were  either  light  or  trifling.  In  the 
writer's  recollection,  the  festival  of  ministers'  meeting 
holds  the  same  honorable  place  as  to  sumptuousness  and 
variety  of  viands  with  the  more  rare  ordination  or  the 
annual  thanksgiving  ;  and  I  believe  the  wives  of  the  min 
isters  used  devoutly  to  pray  that  their  meeting  might 
not  be  in  the  winter. 

Of  the  older  members  of  the  Association,  Drs.  Ste- 
3* 


30  PISCATAQUA    ASSOCIATION 

vens,  Haven, 'and  M'Clintock,  only  a  faint  and  indistinct 
image  remains  in  the  memory  of  the  writer.  Of  the 
others,  it  is  not  invidious  to  say  that  Dr.  Appleton,  after 
wards  President  of  Bowdoin  College,  and  Mr.  Buck- 
minster  were  the  animating  soul.  Nearly  all  the  others 
were  obliged,  like  Paul,  from  the  inadequacy  of  their 
support  from  their  parishes,  to  labor  with  their  hands  at 
some  other  calling.  The  manse  of  each  was  the  home 
of  all,  and  in  those  days,  when  the  door  was  fastened  only 
with  a  simple  latch,  the  situation  of  the  prophet's  chamber 
was  so  familiar  to  the  feet  of  the  brethren,  that,  if  one 
arrived  after  the  family  had  retired  for  the  night,  he  found 
his  way  to  it,  and  the  first  indication  the  family  had  of  a 
guest  was  his  appearance  at  breakfast  the  next  morning. 
In  nearly  all  of  them  there  was  a  marked  individuality 
of  character  that  would  have  furnished  rich  materials  for 
the  pen  of  Scott.  The  Rev.  Joseph  Litchfield  was  set 
tled  over  a  little  village  of  fishermen,  and  his  appearance, 
at  least,  was  that  of  a  pilot  who  had  weathered  a  hun 
dred  storms.  He  was  welcome  to  every  fireside  for  the 
quaint  and  graphic  simplicity  of  his  language,  and  emi 
nently  liked  in  the  pulpit  by  the  younger  members  of  the 
family  for  the  extreme  brevity  of  his  sermons  ;  which 
sermons  were  always  begun  and  finished  by  lamp-light  on 
Saturday  evening.  The  praise  of  brevity  could  not  be 
given  to  the  sermons  of  the  Rev.  Huntington  Porter, 
from  Rye,  close  upon  the  sea.  There  was  an  aridity 
in  the  sermons  and  in  the  aspect  of  the  preacher,  that 
bore  as  strong  a  resemblance  to  the  sand  upon  the  sea 
shore  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Litchfield's  did  to  the  calling  of 
his  flock.  They  were  both  like  those  wholesome  fruit? 
whose  mellow  and  sweet  qualities  are  covered  with  a 
rough  and  husky  rind.  Mr.  Litchfield's  prayers,  made 


OF    MINISTERS.  31 

up  of  quotations  of  the  highly  figurative  language  of 
Scripture,  never  varied  ;  if  he  had  been  cut  short  in  any 
part  of  them,  the  youngest  of  his  hearers  could  have  taken 
up  the  strain  and  gone  on  to  the  end. 

Those  ministers  who  were  settled  in  the  parishes  upon 
the  borders  of  the  sea,  whose  hearers  were  part  fisher 
men,  part  agriculturists,  were  eminently  practical  men  ; 
they  were  teachers  and  pioneers  for  both  worlds,  and 
they  seemed  to  enjoy  "  the  blessings  of  heaven  above,  and 
the  blessing  of  the  deep  that  lieth  under  ;  the  dew  of  the 
mountains,  and  the  riches  of  the  deep  that  coucheth  be 
neath  ";  for  many  of  them  died  comparatively  rich,  even 
in  the  goods  of  this  world. 

There  is  an  anecdote  told  of  one  of  the  Piscataqua 
Association,  who,  addressing  a  society  of  fishermen, 
wished  to  adapt  his  discourse  to  the  understanding  of  his 
hearers.  He  inquired,  "  Supposing,  in  a  northeast* 
storm,  you  should  be  taken  short  in  the  bay,  your  hearts 
trembling  with  fear,  and  nothing  but  death  before  you, 
whither  would  your  thoughts  turn  ?  to  whom  would  you 
fly  ?  "  One  of  the  hearers,  arrested  by  the  description, 
cried  out,  "  Why,  in  that  case,  I  should  hoist  the  fore 
sail  and  scud  away  for  Squam." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Chandler,  of  Elliot,  taught  his  parish 
how  to  turn  the  waste  places,  literally,  into  a  garden,  and 
to  make  the  desert  blossom  as  the  rose.  He  was  the  . 
first  who  supplied  the  Portsmouth  market  with  vegeta 
bles.  He  taught  the  women  to  be  the  best  of  husband- 
mew,  to  work  double  tides,  with  the  hoe  and  the  oar  ; 
and  withal,  he  contrived  to  bring  an  unusual  degree  of 
refinement  for  the  time  and  place  into  his  parish,  and  to 
cultivate  the  best  affections  of  his  people.  The  moral 
soil  kept  pace  with  the  natural,  and  while  this  portion  of 


32  PISCATAQUA    ASSOCIATION 

the  shores  of  the  Piscataqua  was  distinguished  for  its 
deeper  verdure,  its  richer  foliage,  the  people  were  re- 
markahle  for  the  courtesy  of  their  manners  and  the  hon 
esty  of  their  dealings.  The  wives  of  the  fishermen  were 
the  market-women  of  Portsmouth.  There  was  a  small 
market-house  where  they  assembled  after  having  made 
fast  the  boats  which  they  rowed  with  their  own  hands, 
and  then  dispersed  themselves,  with  their  wares,  through 
the  town. 

There  were  families  that  had  been  furnished  by  the 
selfsame  women  long  years,  from  blooming  youth  to 
wrinkled  age,  with  eggs,  berries,  chickens,  spun  yarn, 
knitted  stockings,  &c.,  coming  as  regularly  as  the  Satur 
day  came,  till  a  bond  of  mutual  dependence  was  formed  ; 
and  the  familiar  face  that  had  been  comely  in  youth  con 
tinued  to  them  the  same,  although  to  strangers  it  assumed 
the  witch-like  appearance  of  Meg  Merrilies. 

One  more  of  the  Association,  so  familiar  and  honored 
in  the  youth  of  the  writer,  shall  be  mentioned.  The  Rev. 
Jacob  Abbot,  of  Hampton  Falls,  was  a  man  of  extreme 
sensibility,  and  of  an  inequality  of  temperament  which  sub 
jected  him  to  alternate  seasons  of  dejection  and  exhilara 
tion.  His  countenance  immediately  betrayed  which  state 
of  feeling  predominated,  and  all  his  services,  even  in  the 
pulpit,  partook  of  the  variableness  of  his  temperament. 
He  was  dear  to  children  and  young  people,  from  the 
tender  and  familiar  interest  he  felt  in  their  improvement. 
He  was  always  a  welcome  guest,  from  his  delicate  fear 
of  giving  trouble  ;  and  as  he  continued  a  more  intimate 
intercourse  with  Massachusetts,  and  the  literary  and  polite 
world  there,  than  some  others  of  the  Association,  his 
conversation  was  more  rich  and  varied,  and  more  enter 
taining  to  the  young. 


OF    MINISTERS.  33 

As  has  been  said  above,  these  ministers  differed  wide 
ly  in  their  religious  views  ;  between  the  two  extremes  of 
the  strict  Calvinist  and  the  believer  in  universal  salva 
tion  was  included  among  them  every  shade  of  Protestant 
faith.  Although  their  opinions  were  freely  discussed  in 
these  meetings,  they  do  not  appear  in  any  offensive 
prominence  in  the  two  publications  they  put  forth,  the' 
Missionary  Magazine  and  the  Piscataqua  Prayer- Book, 
but  were  merged  in  the  great  object  of  their  writing  and 
their  preaching,  to  turn  sinners  to  God  by  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  to  produce  virtuous  and  holy  lives. 

The  Piscataqua  Missionary  Magazine  was  a  boon  in 
their  families.  Like  the  new  year's  almanac,  it  was  read 
from  the  first  page  to  the  last,  —  most  gratefully,  if  it 
contained  an  "  entertaining  anecdote  "  ;  and  news  of  even 
missionary  proceedings  was  read  with  avidity,  at  a  time 
when  there  was  no  yellow,  nor  blue,  nor  brown-covered 
literature  to  fill  up  the  Sunday  hours  that  were  not  spent 
in  the  sanctuary. 

The  other  publication  was  "  A  Prayer-Book  for  the 
Use  of  Families,"  in  which  the  address  to  heads  of  fami 
lies  was  written  by  Dr.  Buckminster.  There  is  in  this 
such  a  remarkable  absence  of  sectarianism,  and  such  a 
unity  of  spirit,  that  all  the  prayers  seem  to  have  proceeded 
from  one  mind  and  one  heart,  together  with  a  simplicity  of 
faith  and  expression  that  could  be  understood  by  a  child. 

The  remarks  that  have  been  made  touching  the  una 
nimity  of  feeling  in  the  Piscataqua  Association  must  be 
understood  to  refer  to  the  close  of  the  last  century,  be 
fore  the  critical  study  of  the  Scriptures  had  introduced 
diversity  of  opinion  upon  the  subject  of  the  Trinity. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

PORTSMOUTH.  PECULIARITY     IN     ITS     EARLY      SETTLEMENT 

AND    IN    ITS    SOCIETY. ITS    WEALTH. —  PERSONAL    RECOL 
LECTIONS. MRS.    TAPPAN,    DR.    BUCKMINSTER's   SISTER. 

PORTSMOUTH  from  its  foundation  presented  a  state  of 
society  unlike  that  of  any  other  place  in  New  England. 
It  was  not  settled  from  motives  of  religion,  but  for  pur 
poses  of  trade.  Possessing  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
localities,  of  intermingled  land  and  water,  its  advantages 
of  harbour  and  fishing-ground  presented  an  alluring  pros 
pect  to  persons  wishing  to  gain  fortunes  and  to  enjoy 
life.  A  well-authenticated  anecdote  shows  that  the  in 
habitants  themselves  would  not  hypocritically  appropriate 
to  themselves  the  praise  of  being  a  religious  society.  A 
reverend  divine,  preaching  to  them  against  the  depravity 
of  the  times,  said,  "  You  have  forsaken  the  pious  habits 
of  your  forefathers,  who  left  the  ease  and  comfort  they 
possessed  in  their  native  land,  and  came  to  this  howling 
wilderness,  to  enjoy  the  exercise  of  their  religion  and  a 
pure  worship."  One  of  the  congregation  rose  and  said, 
u  Sir,  you  entirely  mistake  the  matter  :  our  ancestors 
did  not  come  here  on  account  of  their  religion,  but  to 
fish  and  trade." 

The  settlement,  the  government,  and  the  prevailing 
tone  of  society  were  different  from  most  of  the  New 
England  towns.  There  was  no  Puritanism  in  the  early 


PORTSMOUTH.  35 

religion  of  the  place.  The  settlers  of  Portsmouth  re 
tained  their  attachment  to  the  English  Church.  Their 
first  worship  was  Episcopalian,  with  service-books,  has 
socks,  glebe-land,  and  manse.  Even  after  ihe  union 
with  Massachusetts,  the  law  that  to  be  a  freeman  one 
must  be  a  church-member  was  dispensed  with.  The 
air  that  blew  so  freely  over  the  purple  waves  of  the  Pis- 
cataqua  *  was  truly  the  air  of  freedom.  There  was  no 
persecution  for  religions  opinions  in  Portsmouth.  The 
wolf's  head,  that  was  nailed  on  the  meeting-house  door, 
did  not  indicate  the  spirit  that  spoke  within. f 

The  clergy  had  little  or  no  influence  beyond  that  which 
character  gave  them.  The  first  Congregational  min 
ister,  and  there  was  no  one  of  that  denomination  settled 
till  1671,  was  prosecuted  and  imprisoned  by  Governor 
Cranfield  because  he  refused  to  administer  the  commun 
ion  according  to  the  form  of  the  English  Church.  The 
Governor  had  no  design  to  make  the  church  Episcopalian, 
but  sought  this  mode  of  revenging  himself  upon  the  min 
ister,  who  had  ofTended  him  ;  and  four  out  of  six  of  the 
judges  concurred  in  the  sentence.  Could  such  a  thing 
have  taken  place,  under  like  circumstances,  with  a  Wil 
son  or  a  Cotton  ? 

Puritanism  had  little  influence  in  forming  the  charac 
ter  of  Portsmouth.  The  people  were  impulsive  and  en 
thusiastic  ;  easily  excited  to  rejoicings,  which  they  de 
monstrated  with  great  splendor  and  extravagance.  They 
were  little  given  to  days  of  fasting  and  prayer.  When 
the  news  and  the  agent  of  the  Stamp  Act  arrived  in  Ports- 

*  Every  one  who  has  lived  at  Portsmouth  must  recollect  the  pecu 
liar  steely  color  of  the  river. 

t  In  those  early  times,  every  one  who  killed  a  wolf  nailed  his  head 
upon  the  meeting-house  door,  and  received  five  pound?  reward  from 
the  government. 


36  PECULIARITIES    IN    THE 

mouth,  instead  of  appointing  a  day  of  fasting,  they  had 
what  turned  out  to  be  a  joyous  procession  and  jubilee. 
It  began  indeed  with  mourning.  The  bells  were  tolled, 
and  a  funeral  cortege  formed,  bearing  a  coffin  with  the 
inscription,  u  Liberty,  aged  145  years."  This  was 
carried,  with  many  ceremonies,  to  the  grave.  But  as 
the  news  of  the  repeal  had  arrived  before  the  day  that 
the  act  was  to  go  into  operation,  Liberty  was  rescued 
before  it  was  buried,  and  carried  off  by  its  sons  in 
triumph.  Magazines  of  refreshments  were  provided  at 
the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  all  ended  with  a  dinner 
and  a  ball.  Indeed,  in  almost  all  celebrations  of  public 
events,  instead  of  a  sermon,  there  was  a  ball  ;  instead  of 
days  of  fasting  in  Portsmouth,  all  public  demonstrations 
of  feeling  ended  with  a  feast. 

There  was  no  parsimony  in  Portsmouth.  The  liber 
ality  of  the  town  in  its  early  days  was  shown  in  valuable 
donations  to  every  institution  of  public  utility,  and  in  a 
most  generous  grant  of  four  hundred  pounds  to  Harvard 
College.  The  salaries  of  their  earliest  ministers  were 
generous.  To  the  rector,  one  hundred  and  thirty  pounds, 
with  glebe-land  and  parsonage,  and  the  donations  from 
strangers  ;  that  is,  the  money  laid  upon  the  plate,  which, 
in  those  early  times,  wras  placed  in  some  conspicuous 
part  of  the  meeting-house,  and  not  needed  by  any  poor 
persons. 

There  were  large  fortunes  made  in  Portsmouth,  and 
the  inhabitants  imitated  in  splendor  of  living  the  mother 
country.  Governor  Wentworth,  a  man  of  most  brilliant 
talents  and  accomplishments,  with  his  enlarged  views,  re 
fined  tastes,  and  elegant  manners, —  with  the  means  also 
of  expense,  receiving  as  he  did  a  large  salary,*  —  set  the 

*  His  salary,  besides  his  house-rent  and  farm,  was  fourteen  hundred 
pounds.     A  large  sum  previous  to  the  Revolution. 


SOCIETY    OF    PORTSMOUTH.  37 

example  of  social  entertainments,  and  promoted  every 
elegant  amusement.  There  were  more  private  carriages 
and  livery  servants  in  Portsmouth,  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  inhabitants,  than  in  any  other  place  in  New 
England.  Even  as  late  as  the  end  of  the  last  century, 
the  writer  can  recollect  scattered  remnants  of  the  for 
mer  splendor.  Within  the  old  meeting-house,  ancient, 
venerable  forms  loom  out  of  the  distant  dimness,  ar 
rayed  in  all  the  splendor  of  the  costume  of  the  court  of 
George  the  Third.  Immense  wigs,  white  as  snow, 
coats  trimmed  with  gold  lace,  embroidered  waistcoats, 
ruffles  of  delicate  Mechlin  lace  worn  by  the  rougher  sex, 
cocked  hats  and  gold-headed  canes,  —  costumes  that 
would  now  be  assumed  for  a  masquerade,  —  were  scat 
tered  through  the  old  meeting-house  ;  and  then  at  the 
church  door  were  the  chariots,  with  livery  footmen  be 
hind,  to  take  the  delicate-footed  gentlemen  to  their  homes. 
But  these  were  only  the  broken  and  scattered  remnants 
of  the  old  fabric  of  society,  —  the  preserved  ornaments  of 
old-fashioned  splendor.  The  real  wealth  of  the  town, 
within  the  memory  of  the  writer,  was  in  the  younger  men, 
the  merchants,  sons  of  the  workingmen  and  of  the  min 
isters  of  the  preceding  age. 

There  is  no  record  remaining,  accessible  to  the  writer, 
of  Dr.  Buckminster's  ordination.  He  was  unmarried, 
and  went  immediately  to  board  in  the  family  of  one  of  his 
deacons,  at  this  time  consisting  of  a  middle-aged,  child 
less  couple.  In  the  memory  of  the  writer,  as  known  at 
a  later  period,  they  held  so  venerable  and  so  peculiar  an 
aspect,  that  she  would  fain  transfer  a  sketch  of  them  to 
her  pages.  They  dwelt  in  a  small,  plain  house,  one  little 
parlour  of  ten  feet  square  containing  all  that  was  requi 
site  for  their  comfort.  The  deacon  himself  tended  a  lit- 
4 


38  SLIGHT    SKETCHES    OF 

tie  shop  in  front  of  the  parlour,  filled  with  needles,  pins, 
tape,  quality-binding,  snuff,  —  that  most  common  lux 
ury,  —  with  a  small  pair  of  scales  to  weigh  a  copper's 
worth.  The  deacon  always  wore  a  full  suit  of  very  light 
drab  broadcloth,  with  white  cotton  stockings  and  silver 
knee-buckles,  and  a  full-bottomed  white  horsehair  wig,  al 
ways  powdered.  His  exquisitely  plaited  cambric  ruffles 
were  turned  back  while  he  was  in  the  shop,  under  white 
linen  sleeves  or  cuffs,  and  a  white  linen  apron  preserved 
the  purity  of  the  fine  drab  broadcloth. 

His  solitary  mate  sat  in  the  little  three-cornered  par 
lour,  whose  fireplace  was  an  afterthought,  and  built  into 
the  corner  ;  the  bricks  forming  successive  little  shelves, 
where  various  small  things  could  be  kept  warm.  There 
she  sat  all  day  at  her  round  table  with  needle-work,  dress 
ed  in  an  old-fashioned  brocade,  with  an  exquisite  lawn 
handkerchief  folded  over  it,  and  environed  with  a  scrupu 
lous  neatness,  where  the  litter  of  children's  sports  never 
came.  In  the  stoical  childhood  of  the  writer,  it  was  a 
blessed  recreation  to  be  permitted  to  go  and  drink  tea 
with  the  old-fashioned  pair.  The  visiter  sat  upon  the 
stair  that  came  down  into  the  room,  and  observed  the 
process  of  making  tea,  when  the  bright  copper  kettle  was 
placed  before  the  fire,  and  the  waiter  with  small  china  cups 
took  the  place  of  the  work-basket  upon  the  round  table. 
Then,  as  the  evening  shades  gathered  in  that  little  room, 
and  the  tea-kettle  sang  louder  and  louder,  the  mate  of  this 
solitary  nest  came  in  from  the  shop.  His  white  wig  was 
exchanged  for  a  linen  cap,  the  cuffs  and  the  apron  laid 
aside,  and  the  latchet  of  the  silver  shoe-buckle  unloosed, 
but  not  taken  out.  His  place  was  also  at  another  small 
table,  where  were  writing  materials  and  the  ledger  of  the 
little  establishment. 


FAMILIES    IN    PORTSMOUTH.  39 

It  was  the  proud  office  of  the  childish  visiter  to  be 
permitted  to  carry  the  smoking  cup  of  tea  across  the 
few  steps  that  divided  the  tables  without  spilling  a  drop, 
more  than  rewarded  by  the  benignant  smile,  the  cour 
teous  politeness,  of  the  old  gentleman.  Yes,  although  he 
sold  snuff  by  the  copper's  worth,  he  was  a  true  paladin, 
chivalrous  to  his  companion,  whom  he  always  called 
"  My  love,"  while  she  addressed  him  by  the  plainer  title 
of  cc  >  eighbour,"  obeying,  no  doubt,  the  injunction  of 
Scripture  that  she  should  love  her  neighbour  as  herself. 

In  this  frugal,  uniform,  secluded  manner,  they  passed 
the  evening  of  a  life  that  had  once  been  more  eventful, 
and  with  greater  means  of  expense,  and  in  retaining  the 
costume  of  better  days,  unsuited  to  the  business  of  the 
small  shop,  they  retained  what  conduced  to  their  own 
unassuming  self-respect.  The  old  lady  always  folded 
her  work  and  closed  her  evening  in  the  words  of  Dr. 
Watts  :  — 

"  I  'm  tired  of  visits,  modes,  and  forms, 
And  flatteries  paid  to  fellow-worms  ; 

Their  conversation  cloys, — 
Their  vain  amours,  and  empty  stuff; 
But  I  can  ne'er  enjoy  enough 

Of  thy  dear  company." 

In  my  childish  simplicity,  it  seemed  a  beautiful  compli 
ment  to  her  companion  ;  but  as  I  now  understand  its  sig 
nificance,  it  seems  almost  a  parody  upon  their  quiet  life. 
Another  family,  which  presents  a  contrast  to  the  last, 
appears  in  the  magnifying  memory  of  childhood  with  four 
fold  lustre,  and  their  dwelling  "like  a  palace  in  El  Dorado, 
overlaid  with  precious  metal."  And  there,  at  the  gate  of 
the  palace,  stood  daily  the  chariot  and  the  liveried  ser 
vants,  and  the  lady  came  forth,  stately,  powdered,  and,  in 


40  SLIGHT    SKETCHES    OF 

the  thought  of  the  humble  child,  too  delicate  to  press  the 
rough  earth  with  her  foot  ;  and  when  she  was  seated,  the 
two  liveried  negroes  stood  behind,  and  thus  the  pageant 
passed  on.  But  all  the  barriers  of  ceremony  were  over 
leaped  when  we  were  permitted  to  visit  the  great  house  ; 
for  there  was  the  only  daughter,  the  only  child  of  the 
house,  but  a  few  years  older  than  ourself,  lively,  natural, 
amiable,  and  generous,  in  all  the  fulness  of  a  noble  heart. 
She  was  ready  to  instruct  us  in  what  she  knew,  and 
ready  to  join  in  any  game  for  our  amusement. 

Governor  Langdon,  of  whose  family  I  speak,  and  to 
whose  friendship  I  would  pay  a  long-deferred  but  genuine 
tribute,  was  one  of  the  most  faithful,  where  all  were  faith 
ful,  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  parishioners.  His  daughter 
endeared  herself  singularly  to  the  affections  of  children. 
The  son  of  our  family,  of  whom  I  shall  presently  speak, 
was  happy  in  receiving  from  her  his  first  impressions  of 
the  youthful  feminine  character.  She  was  several  years 
older,  and  had  seen  much  more  of  the  world  ;  therefore 
it  was  in  her  power  to  give  him  many  valuable  lessons, 
to  instruct  him  in  politeness,  and  to  watch  his  progress 
in  graceful  manners  and  in  deference  to  the  society  of 
ladies.  He  repaid  her  with  the  warmest  gratitude  and 
attachment ;  and  a  friendship  that  began  almost  in  his 
infancy  went  on  increasing  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life. 

Another,  a  middle  group  in  the  faithful  and  true  pic 
tures  of  a  society  long  since  passed  away.  This  is  the 
family  of  a  favorite  physician,  the  dearly  loved  and  trust 
ed  friend.  He  also  wears  a  full  suit  of  a  rich  brown 
color,  with  cambric  ruffles,  silk  stockings,  and  gold 
buckles  at  his  knees  and  shoes.  His  is  a  small  wig,  or 
hair,  curled  and  powdered  at  the  sides,  with  a  black  silk 
bag  behind,  a  three-cornered  hat,  and  a  gold-headed  cane. 


FAMILIES    IN    PORTSMOUTH.  41 

As  he  picks  his  way,  with  quick,  but  careful  steps, 
through  the  muddy  streets,  his  hat  is  completely  off  at 
the  meeting  of  every  townsman,  and  every  child  is  his 
particular  care.  From  all  the  fresh  young  lips  of  the 
little  girls,  he  takes  a  tribute  as  he  passes  ;  they  hold  up 
their  rosy  faces,  charmed  with  the  familiar  courtesy  of 
the  much-enduring  man,  and  feeling  richer  for  what  they 
have  given. 

Let  us  follow  him  to  his  home,  where  the  exquisite 
brightness  of  the  old-fashioned  andirons,  the  brilliant  pol 
ish  of  the  furniture,  the  closely  drawn  curtains,  give  to 
the  modest  apartment  the  charm  of  elegance,  and  some 
thing  even  more  home-like  than  elegance  can  impart. 
The  wife,  a  faithful  picture  of  the  olden  time,  calm, 
stately,  and  lady-like,  benignant  and  most  lovable  to 
children,  —  for  she  is  herself  childless,  — brings  forth  her 
treasures  of  a  yet  more  ancient  time  to  charm  the  win 
ter's  evening.  Another  figure,  dear  to  my  childhood's 
memory,  must  not  be  omitted,  —  the  grandmother  of  the 
hostess,  then  nearly  ninety,  holding  herself  yet  erect  in 
the  easy-chair,  with  lawn  hood,  white  as  snow,  plaited 
closely  round  the  silvery  hair,  that  is  folded  back  over 
a  cushion,  —  a  fashion  almost  as  old  as  the  first  century  of 
the  country.  Beneath,  the  pale,  calm,  passionless  face 
of  a  beautiful  old  age,  and  the  sightless  eyes,  claiming  a 
mysterious  reverence  from  our  young  hearts.  How 
much  of  the  past  could  I  have  learned  from  her,  had  I 
known  how  to  ask! 

In  connection  with  the  societv  in  Portsmouth,  as  the 
place  where  such  a  character  could  find  her  appropriate 
sphere,  and  among  the  events  that  contributed  greatly  to 
the  happiness  of  Dr.  Buckminster,  should  be  mentioned 
the  residence  in  the  same  town,  and  near  him,  of  his  sis- 
4* 


42  •         MRS.  TAPPAX. 

ter  Isabella  and  her  husband,  Mr.  Amos  Tappan,  who 
was  one  of  his  most  intimate  personal  friends,  and  for 
some  years  the  deacon  of  his  parish.  This  sister  Isa 
bella,  the  youngest  of  the  family,  then  about  eighteen 
years  old,  came  to  visit  her  brother  soon  after  his  mar 
riage,  and  Providence  so  ordered  that  she  remained  the 
constant  sharer  of  his  joys  and  sorrows,  the  efficient 
friend,  to  him  and  to  his  children,  through  life,  and  not 
widely  divided  from  him  in  death.  She  followed  her 
brother  in  less  than  two  years  after  his  decease. 

Mrs.  Tappan  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  remark 
able,  one  of  the  most  heroic  (for  heroism  applies  to  moral 
and  religious  principles  as  well  as  to  heroic  actions),  of 
which  the  last  century,  so  fruitful  in  noble  women,  has 
left  us  the  example.  Although  she  has  passed  away, 
and  there  has  been  no  record  of  her  deeds  on  earth,  yet 
if  we  are  permitted  to  believe  that  heaven  is  a  place  where 
the  good  receive  their  reward  in  observing  the  happiness 
of  those  they  benefited  on  earth,  there  has  she  also  met 
her  appropriate  reward. 

Mrs.  Fry,  Hannah  More,  and  countless  others,  have 
been  celebrated  and  admired.  God  forbid  that  one  leaf 
should  be  shorn  from  the  laurels  that  adorn  their  hon 
ored  names  ;  but  they  had  the  aid  of  fortune,  of  wealthy 
and  efficient  friends,  of  constant  applause,  of  increasing 
fame,  of  royal  approbation,  and  of  a  final  reward  in  the 
public  gratitude  of  the  nation.  Mrs.  Tappan  wrought 
for  many  years  alone,  with  discouragement  and  illness  on 
her  side,  struggling  constantly  against  a  strong  current 
of  worldliness  and  avarice.  Let  it  be  remembered,  also, 
that  she  begun  and  carried  on  her  labors  before  philan 
thropy  had  received  an  impulse  from  the  spirit  of  the 
age  ;  before  charity-schools,  associations,  and  benevolent 


HER    CHARITY    SCHOOLS. 


43 


societies  had  an  existence  ;  and  in  a  place,  too,  where  no 
fashion  and  no  notoriety  could  attach  to  them.  Her 
husband,  who  fully  participated  in  her  benevolent  plans, 
and  helped,  after  her  decease,  to  carry  them  out,  was 
master  of  the  grammar-school  in  Portsmouth,  with  a  sal 
ary  never  exceeding  seven  or  eight  hundred  dollars. 
With  these  small  pecuniary  means,  her  benevolent  plans 
were  begun,  carried  on,  and  completed.  With  lion  heart, 
she  did  not  hesitate  to  attack  avarice  in  its  stronghold. 
With  strong  faith  in  the  kindness  of  the  human  heart, 
with  persuasive  eloquence  and  unusual  pathos  in  pleading 
the  cause  of  the  unfortunate,  she  approached  the  heart 
and  the  hand  shut  close  upon  its  gold  ;  and  one  by  one 
she  unloosed  the  grasp  of  tl)3  fingers,  and  by  degrees 
melted  the  ice  about  the  heart,  and  gained  her  purpose. 
Her  first  object  was  the  establishment  of  a  charity- 
school  for  poor  girls,  and  connected  with  it  a  Sunday 
school  taught  by  young  ladies  enlisted  by  herself  in  this 
service.  These  children  were  taken  from  the  lowest 
and  most  wretched  class  of  society,  were  made  re 
spectable,  and  dressed  in  a  neat  uniform.  Great  was 
her  delight  when  she  saw  them  all  neatly  arrayed  by  her 
own  exertions,  and  following  their  teachers  to  church, 
where  a  sermon  was  preached  in  their  behalf  by  her 
brother,  Dr.  Buckminster,  and  a  contribution  taken. 
This,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  in  the  very  beginning 
of  the  century,  in  1803,  before  schools,  especially  Sun 
day  schools,  were  thought  of  in  this  country.  Finding 
these  poor  children  still  corrupted  by  the  debasing  influ 
ences  of  their  homes,  she  changed  her  plan,  and  almost 
by  her  personal  efforts  alone  established  the  Female 
Asylum  in  Portsmouth  for  destitute  children.  This  in 
stitution  met  with  much  opposition,  but  was  firmly  sus- 


44  HER    BENEVOLENT    OBJECTS. 

tained  by  her  during  her  life.  From  causes  whi  -h  can 
not  be  here  detailed,  it  failed  in  the  ultimate  benefit 
expected  from  it. 

She  was  herself  childless,  but  her  home  never  lacked 
the  cheerful  voices  and  the  kindly  influences  of  young 
and  childlike  natures.  Had  her  house  been  large 
enough,  every  motherless  child  would  have  found  a  home 
within  it.  Three  young  relatives  of  her  husband's  fam 
ily  and  her  own  were  permanently  adopted  by  them,  and 
received  all  the  benefits  of  a  paternal  and  religions  home  ; 
and  were  educated  to  practise  the  self-denial  and  to  value 
the  benevolent  influences  that  formed  the  atmosphere  by 
which  they  were  surrounded.  As  soon  as  her  two  adopt 
ed  daughters  were  old  enough,  they  were  enlisted  in  her 
charitable  forces,  and  helped  to  carry  out  her  benevolent 
plans.  She  had  read  of  Sunday  schools  in  England,  and 
was  anxious  to  adopt  them  ;  but  she  had  yet  a  stronger 
sentiment  in  favor  of  domestic  religious  instruction 
where  it  could  be  obtained.  The  colored  population 
was  very  large  at  that  time  in  Portsmouth,  and,  from  the 
prejudice  against  color,  their  children  did  not  enjoy  the 
same  privileges  as  others.  Her  benevolent  heart  keenly 
felt  this  injustice,  and  she  sent  her  adopted  daughters  to 
collect  the  negro  children  in  town,  and  to  bring  them  to 
her  own  house,  where  there  was  religious  instruction  for 
them  on  the  Sabbath  ;  to  this  was  added  a  school  every 
afternoon  in  the  week,  in  which  they  were  taught  sewing, 
knitting,  and  reading.  Both  these  schools  were  contin 
ued  by  these  young  ladies  for  many  years.  This  Sab- 
.  bath  school  was  probably  the  first  in  New  England. 
It  was  carried  on  in  a  humble,  noiseless  manner.  It  was 
scarcely  known  out  of  the  street  where  she  lived,  and 
the  investigation  that  has  taken  place  about  the  honor  of 


HER  BENEFICENCE  TO  THE  POOR.  45 

having  instituted  these  useful  schools  has  left  this  humble 
one,  and  that,  also,  connected  with  the  charity-school  in 
Portsim  uth,  wholly  unmentioned. 

It  was  not  children  alone  that  claimed  her  care.  The 
old,  the  neglected,  the  sorrowful,  the  deserted,  the  for 
gotten,  were  all  her  children  and  the  recipients  of  her 
bounty.  Every  Sunday,  some  poor  old  creatures,  weigh 
ed  down  with  infirmity,  friendless,  with  none  but  her  to 
pity,  wrere  invited  to  sit  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  there  a 
good  dinner  of  meat  and  pudding  was  carried  to  them  by 
herself  from  her  table  ;  her  kind  voice,  her  sympathizing 
eye,  cheered  them,  and  they  were  sent  away  refreshed 
with  the  reflection  that  one  friend  at  least  cared  for  them. 
Even  the  miserable  inmates  of  the  almshouse  were  in 
vited  to  her  cheerful  table,  not  merely  to  be  cheered  by 
a  good  dinner,  but  to  be  refreshed  with  the  Christian  sym 
pathy  of  a  heart  alive  to  every  impulse  of  humanity. 
This  was  not  all.  Her  visits  to  the  poor  and  afflicted 
were  the  daily  doings,  the  constant  duties  and  cares  of 
the  week.  She  sent  her  adopted  children,  and  some 
times  her  nieces,  to  search  out  the  victims  of  want  and 
misfortune  ;  the  highways  and  the  hedges  were  explored  ; 
and  all  were  included  in  that  comprehensive  charity 
where  the  only  claim  was  suffering  and  sorrow. 

All  this  was  accomplished  by  one  who  wras  more  than 
a  third  of  the  time  prostrate  on  a  bed  of  suffering.  She 
was  subject  to  severe  nervous  headache,  that,  after  some 
hours  of  acute  suffering,  was  only  relieved  by  opiates 
and  sleep.  While  convalescent,  she  was  planning  her 
disinterested  labors,  which,  the  moment  ease  returned, 
were  resumed  and  pursued  with  new  ardor,  before  the 
return  of  another  attack  of  pain.  To  use  the  beautiful 
words  of  another,  "  she  seemed  an  angel  ever  on  the 


46  HER    SYMPATHY    WITH    THE    SICK. 

wing,  leaving  a  path  of  light  and  love  behind  her."  Her 
noble,  generous  soul  seemed  to  act  from  the  instinct  of 
beneficence.  Tt  was  not  necessary  for  her  to  pause. 
She  felt  that  she  was  right.  Her  husband  sometimes  said, 
u  Should  we  not  stop  to  investigate  our  motives  more 
fully,  before  we  undertake  a  new  experiment."  She 
would  answer,  "I  must  not  stop.  I  must  act.  Let 
motives  take  care  of  themselves  ;  for  while  I  am  deliber 
ating,  some  poor  creature  may  be  perishing  for  lack  of 
aid."  With  all  this  active  charity,  she  was  an  angel  of 
comfort  and  consolation  by  the  bed  of  sickness,  and  in 
the  chambers  of  the  dying.  She  brought  with  her  when 
she  entered  a  calming,  soothing  power.  Her  cheerful 
countenance,  her  bright  srnile,  and  active  step,  when  she 
entered  the  chamber  of  sickness,  seemed  instantly  to 
banish  anxiety  and  despondency.  The  writer  of  this 
imperfect  sketch  well  remembers,  that,  with  the  sensitive 
feelings  of  childhood  and  the  anxious  fears  of  ignorance, 
sha  sympathized  too  keenly  when  sickness  and  sorrow 
were  in  the  family  ;  but  the  moment  this  valued  relative 
entered  the  chamber,  a  weight  was  lifted  from  her  spirits. 
"  All  will  now  be  well  "  was  whispered  to  her  heart,  and 
the  sunshine  returned  to  her  breast.  It  is  a  peculiar  facul 
ty,  a  direct  gift  of  nature,  with  which  a  few  favored  beings 
are  endowed,  thus  to  be  the  aids  and  comforters  of 
others. 

As  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Tappan  was  occupied  with  great 
plans  of  benevolence,  she  did  not  therefore  neglect  the 
smallest  effort  ;  the  cup  of  cold  water  was  never  forgot 
ten.  Amon;  small  aids  for  doing  good  was  that  of  ap 
propriating  a  room  in  her  house  to  the  use  of  a  destitute, 
lonely  widow,  whose  only  occupation  was  making  over 
old  clothes,  and  repairing  flannels  and  woollens,  for  the 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  47 

benefit  of  those  who  had  none.  When  the  materials 
failed,  she  spun  and  knit  yarn  into  stockings  for  the 
poor.  Bed-spreads  and  comforters  were  here  quilted, 
that  had  been  sewed  together  from  the  smallest  scraps  at 
her  daughters'  charity  schools.  Here,  too,  young  ladies 
were  invited  to  come,  with  thimble  and  needle,  to  spend 
a  cheerful  .afternoon,  leaving,  as  the  result  of  their  labors, 
garments  for  her  destitute  poor,  and  fully  repaid  by  her 
own  cheerful  and  animated  conversation. 

But  her  active  and  benevolent  spirit  received  a  new 
impulse  after  the  publication  of  Buchanan's  and  other 
missionary  works.  She  threw  all  the  ardor  of  her  soul 
and  all  the  energies  of  her  mind  into  the  cause  of  mis 
sions.  The  rich  were  called  upon  to  give,  the  young  to 
aid  with  their  labors,  and  her  own  days  and  nights  were 
devoted  to  writing  and  to  the  diffusion  of  missionary  in 
formation.  A  new  spirit  was  awakened  in  the  country, 
and  young  men  rushed  from  the  plough  and  the  work 
bench  to  schools  and  academies,  to  obtain  the  requisite 
knowledge,  in  order  to  depart  as  missionaries  to  heathen 
lands.  The  beautiful  hymn  of  Bishop  Heber  fired  them 
with  new  zeal  in  the  cause  :  — 

"  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  sand, 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 

From  many  a  palmy  plain, 
They  call  us  to  deliver 

Their  land  from  error's  chain." 

The  call  was  obeyed.  The  young  missionaries  were 
welcomed  by  her  and  her  husband  to  their  hospitable 
roof;  their  wants  supplied,  their  wardrobes  repaired, 


48  MEETINGS    FOR    RELIGIOUS    INQUIRY. 

their  old  clothes  exchanged  for  new.  For  this  purpose 
there  was  a  chest  of  drawers  appropriated  to  ready-made 
garments  for  missionaries  ;  and  perhaps  no  satisfaction 
was  ever  greater  than  hers,  when  a  young  man  was  fur 
nished  and  speeded  on  his  labors.  Her  hopeful  and 
imaginative  mind  looked  forwardSnto  the  future,  and  saw, 
with  rapturous  joy,  the  heathen  forsaking  his  debasing 
superstitions,  and  whole  nations  converted  to  the  blessed 
religion  of  Jesus.  In  faith  she  looked  forward,  but  she 
witnessed  only  the  dawn  of  missionary  success. 

Mrs.  Tappan's  fervent  spirit  could  not  be  satisfied  with 
the  common  and  ordinary  sources  of  religious  instruction. 
The  pious  fervor  of  her  soul  required  a  more  intimate 
union  with  her  fellow-Christians  upon  spiritual  subjects. 
She  was  active,  therefore,  with  other  members  of  the 
church,  in  instituting  meetings  for  prayer  and  religious 
inquiry,  at  which  the  presence  of  her  brother,  Dr.  Buck- 
minster,  was  always  desired.  A  person,  then  in  the 
morning  of  life,  who  was  present  at  these  meetings,  speaks 
of  them,  after  the  lapse  of  thirty  years,  in  these  glowing 
terms  :  — 

"  Dr.  Buckminster's  addresses  at  these  meetings  were 
more  tender  and  impressive  than  his  written  sermons. 
Here  he  came  near  to  heaven,  with  his  and  our  sorrows 
and  wants.  Here  was  the  Bible  unfolded  and  taken  to 
every  heart,  and  Christians  trained  for  heaven.  In  these 
little  rooms,  unadorned  and  uncushioned,  sat  Dr.  Buck- 
minster,  as  a  ministering  angel,  his  countenance  beaming 
with  heavenly  love  and  his  lips  uttering  celestial  truths, 
leading  that  little  company  to  the  waters  of  eternal  life. 
They  drank  there,  and  most  of  them  are  now  at  the 
fountain.  They  hunger  no  more,  nor  thirst,  neither  does 
the  sun  light  on  them  or  any  heat.  Those  little  white- 


MEETINGS    FOR     RELIGIOUS    INQUIRY.  49 

washed  rooms,  —  what  scenes  of  interest  could  they  un 
fold  !  There  I  learned  the  value  of  the  soul,  and,  I  trust, 
found  safety.  I  shall  never  forget  the  tenderness  and 
earnestness  with  which  he  spoke  to  me.  The  tears  and 
the  love  of  the  pastor  penetrated  my  soul.  I  feel  assured 
it  was  in  that  little  circle  of  affection  and  prayer  that 
he  strengthened  his  own  spirit  and  lost  his  own  burdens. 
Many  who  composed  it  were  unlettered  and  unrefined, 
but  in  this  \veekly  intercourse  the  elegance  and  refine 
ment  of  his  own  mind  were  imparted  ;  they  caught  the 
gentleness  and  urbanity  of  his  manners  ;  they  became 
strong  in  the  Bible  spirit,  and  were  imbued  with  Bible 
truth.  It  is  remarkable  how  soon  they  were  all,  or  near 
ly  all,  called  to  follow  him  ;  and  what  death-beds  were 
theirs!  Most  of  them  were  eminently  blessed  at  the  close 
of  life.  Those  peaceful,  dying  scenes  are  among  my 
sweetest  memories." 

Mrs.  Tappan,  in  these  meetings,  as  in  every  thing  else, 
was  the  leader  and  encourager  of  others.  Her  faith  was 
rarely  clouded,  her  intrepid  spirit  scarcely  ever  discour 
aged.  "  There  were  occasions,"  says  one  of  her  adopted 
daughters,  "  in  which  she  rose  above  herself,  and  appear 
ed  a  superior  being  to  all  around  her."  One  of  the  oc 
casions  referred  to  was  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster,  when,  as  often  happens,  there  was  disunion  between 
the  church  and  the  parish  in  the  choice  of  a  candidate. 
Mrs.  Tappan  was  deeply  interested  in  the  gentleman 
whom  the  church  had  chosen  ;  she  could  not  bear  to 
think  of  a  disappointment.  "  The  day  of  decision  had 
arrived,  and  she  spent  it  in  her  room,  walking  the  floor, 
and  endeavouring  to  stay  her  soul  on  God.  At  four 
o'clock  the  parish  meeting  closed,  with  a  rejection  of 
the  candidate.  The  brethren  of  the  church,  in  silence 
5 


50  DEATH    OF    MRS.    TAPPAN. 

and  grief,  assembled  spontaneously  at  her  house,  but 
she  was  by  this  time  wholly  exhausted,  and  had  taken 
to  her  bed.  The  friends  went  directly  to  her,  and  burst 
into  a  flood  of  tears,  as  they  assembled  around  her. 
In  an  instant  she  sprang  up  in  bed,  and,  with  heroic 
courage  and  eloquence  she  addressed  them:  —  c  What  ! 
my  friends,'  she  said,  c  is  it  for  us  to  be  faint-hearted, 
while  God  lives  ?  The  cause  is  his,  not  ours.  He  will 
take  care  of  his  own.'  And  with  astonishing  energy  and 
eloquence  she  continued  to  speak,  till  all  were  ashamed 
of  their  want  of  faith,  and  went  forward  with  new  reso 
lution."  * 

Mrs.  Tappan  died  in  April,  1814.  There  was  a  most 
affecting  expression  of  the  attachment  which  this  friend 
of  the  sorrowful  had  inspired  in  every  class  of  the  com 
munity.  During  her  short  and  fatal  illness,  her  chamber, 
and  ,all  the  avenues  leading  to  it,  were  thronged  with 
crowds  of  deeply  anxious  faces,  asking  and  longing  for 
one  word  of  hope  ;  and  when  she  died,  the  grief  of  the 
community  was  almost  as  fervent  and  universal  as  when 
her  brother,  Dr.  Buckminster,  was  taken  from  his 
parish. 

*  Mrs.  Bigelow,  of  Rochester,  Mass, 


CHAPTER    V. 

MARRIAGE    OF    MR.    BUCKMINSTER. CHARACTER     AND     ANEC 
DOTES    OF    DR.    STEVENS. DEATH    OF    MRS.    BUCKMINSTER. 

DEPRESSION    OF    SPIRITS. SECOND    MARRIAGE.  JOYS 

AND    TRIALS. 

MR.  BUCKMINSTER  had  been  settled  in  Portsmouth 
three  years,  when  he  married,  in  1782,  Sarah  Stevens, 
the  only  child  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Stevens,  of  Kittery 
Point.  Kittery  Point,  upon  the  Piscataqua  River,  op 
posite  to  Portsmouth,  was  at  this  and  at  an  earlier 
period  a  fair  town,  in  a  flourishing  condition.  Merchants 
of  large  property  made  it  their  residence ;  spacious 
houses  were  built,  and  strangers  were  much  allured  to 
the  spot  to  enjoy  the  elegant  hospitality  of  Sir  William 
Pepperell.  Dr.  Stevens  lived  to  see  the  decline  of 
the  place,  the  death  or  removal  of  his  old  friends,  while 
the  beautiful  spot  assumed  almost  its  present  appearance  ; 
where  the  bright-flowing  Piscataqua  winds  round  empty 
fields,  dotted  only  with  the  old  trees*  of  a  former  growth, 
and  the  land  and  water,  so  sweetly  blended  together,  are 
varied  only  by  its  ancient  tombs. 

The  history  of  Dr.  Stevens  and  his  family  is  some 
what  peculiar.  His  father,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Stevens, 
was  minister  of  the  First  Church  of  Charlestown,  Mas 
sachusetts.  Ordained  in  1713,  his  ministry  had  been  of 
only  eight  years'  duration,  when  he  himself,  and,  save  one 


52  REV.    MR.    STEVENS    OF    CHARLESTOWN. 

child,  his  whole  family,  consisting  of  his  wife,  two  chil 
dren,  his  wife's  sister,  and  a  maid-servant,  were  all 
swept  off  at  once  by  the  small-pox.  His  second  son, 
Benjamin,  then  an  infant  of  seven  months  old,  was  saved 
by  the  prudence  of  a  nurse,  who  fled  with  him  from  the 
contagion  to  his  grandfather's  house  in  Andover. 

Mr.  Stevens,  the  minister  of  Charlesto\vn,  was  a  man 
much  beloved,  and  distinguished  by  peculiar  graces. 
The  Rev.  Dr.  Colman,  of  Brattle  Street  church,  wrote 
of  him  a  short  biography,  as  a  preface  to  four  sermons 
upon  that  "  better,  heavenly  country,"  which  he  was  in 
the  course  of  preaching  when  he  was  taken  away,  to 
dwell  in  that  "  better  land." 

From  this  source  we  learn,  that  "he  was  possessed 
of  great  personal  beauty,  and  no  less  distinguished  for 
the  brilliant  qualities  of  his  mind.  His  countenance  was 
grave,  of  a  sweet  expression,  and  full  of  life.  He  ex 
celled  in  conversation,  and  the  modesty  of  his  deportment 
gave  a  singular  grace  to  the  superiority  and  dignity  that 
were  natural  to  him.  In  the  delivery  of  his  sermons  he 
was  distinguished  for  his  animation.  His  eyes  as  well 
as  his  tongue  were  wont  to  speak  with  such  majesty,  as 
well  as  solemnity,  as  commanded  the  ears  and  hearts  of 
his  audience.  Indeed,  his  natural  advantages  were  such, 
that,  while  they  formed  a  distinguished  divine,  they  might 
have  equally  qualified  him  as  a  judge  or  a  commander, 
had  Providence  called  him  to  the  bench  or  the  field."  * 

It  is  a  striking  circumstance,  perhaps,  that  this  descrip 
tion  of  Mr.  Stevens  would  apply  with  great  exactness  to 
his  great-grandson,  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street  church, 
who  inherited  his  name,  as  wrell  as  his  personal  graces. 

*  See  the  History  of  the  First  Church  of  Charlestown,  by  W.  J. 
Buddington. 


DR.    STEVENS    OF    KITTERY  POINT.  53 

Their  ministry  also  was  of  the  same  duration,  —  eight 
years,  —  both  dying  in  their  full  strength,  one  at  twenty- 
eight,  the  other  at  forty  years  of  age. 

The  single  scion  of  the  family  who  escaped  the  ravages 
of  the  small-pox,  the  orphan  Benjamin,  was  educated  at 
Harvard  College,  and  settled  at  Kittery  Point,  at  that 
time,  as  mentioned  above,  a  flourishing  and  attractive 
place.  He  married  a  daughter  of  Judge  Trowbridge,  of 
Cambridge.*  His  wife  died  early,  leaving  him  an  only 
child,  a  daughter,  thus  motherless,  at  the  age  of  ten  years. 
When  urged  to  marry  again,  he  replied, — "  I  do  not 
feel  that  the  tie  that  bound  me  to  one  now  in  heaven  is 
dissolved  by  death  ;  I  live  in  the  firm  faith  of  meeting  my 
wife  again."  When  he  was  reminded  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  give  his  only  daughter  a  guardian  and  female 
companion,  he  said  that  he  thought  himself  able  to  be 
the  guardian  of  his  daughter,  and  that  he  did  not  wish  to 
place  her  under  any  authority  but  his  own.  And  he 
became  indeed  the  companion  of  his  only  child.  The 
union  between  father  and  daughter  W7as  singularly  free, 
unreserved,  and  beautiful. 

Some  anecdotes  remain  of  Dr.  Stevens,  that  are  as 
characteristic  of  the  manners  of  a  century  ago,  as  of  the 
individuality  of  his  character.  The  meeting-house  and 
parsonage  on  Kittery  Point,  upon  the  northeastern  shore, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Piscataqua,  have  an  aspect  and  sit 
uation  which  in  summer  cannot  be  surpassed  for  beau 
ty  and  variety  of  scenery,  but  in  winter  are  bleak  and 
exposed  to  storms,  and  at  times  the  river  must  have  been 
almost  impassable.  Tradition  informs  us,  that,  after 

*  Mr.  Ellery,  of  Newport,  grandfather  of  Dr.  Charming,  married  a 
sister  of  Mrs.  Stevens.  Dr.  Channing  and  Joseph  Stevens  Buckmin- 
ster  were  second-cousins. 

5* 


51  ANECDOTES    OF    DR.    STEVENS. 

he  was  somewhat  advanced  in  years,  and  consequently 
not  very  well  able  to  bear  the  cold,  he  would  remain  in 
the  parsonage  on  a  stormy  Sabbath  morning  in  the  win 
ter  till  the  bell  had  tolled  some  time,  and  then  he  would 
send  his  servant  Sambo  into  the  meeting-house  with  the 
message,  that,  if  there  were  but  seven  hearers  assembled, 
"  massa"  invited  them  to  come  into  his  parlour,  and  he 
would  preach  to  them  there  ;  but  if  there  were  upwards 
of  seven,  he  would  go  to  the  meeting-house.  He  would 
then  enter,  with  his  outside  garment  tied  closely  around 
his  waist  with  a  silk  handkerchief,  as  no  fires  were  then 
kept  in  the  places  of  worship,  and,  thus  protected  from 
the  cold,  he  would  go  through  the  services. 

He  used  to  ride  on  horseback  in  the  winter  accoutred 
in  the  same  manner,  and  carry  relief  to  the  temporal  wants 
of  the  poor  and  sick,  as  well  as  spiritual  instruction  to 
all  whom  he  could  reach.  He  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  every  member  of  his  parish,  man,  woman,  and  child  ; 
and  although  his  meeting-house  was  usually  well  filled  in 
good  weather,  and  very  often  crowded,  he  could  tell  who 
were  missing,  and  if  places  were  vacant  on  a  pleasant 
Sabbath,  he  was  sure  to  be  out  on  horseback  very  early 
on  Monday  morning  to  visit  the  absentees.  Few,  very 
few,  ever  put  him  to  the  trouble  of  going  to  see  them 
two  Mondays  in  succession. 

Sambo,  the  black  servant  already  mentioned,  was  the 
factotum  in  his  master's  small  family,  and  very  fond  of  a 
practical  joke.  One  summer's  day,  when  one  of  the 
clerical  brethren  came  to  visit  his  master,  Sambo  teth 
ered  the  horse  so  near  to  the  rocks  in  the  pasture  that 
the  poor  beast  could  get  but  a  very  scanty  meal.  When 
reproved  by  his  master  for  his  inhospitality,  he  replied, 
"  Massa  tell  Sambo  that  the  nearer  the  bone  the  sweeter 


ANECDOTES    OF    DR.    STEVENS.  55 

the  meat,  and  Sambo  thought  that  the  nearer  the  rock 
the  sweeter  the  grass."  Even  without  this  anecdote  we 
should  infer  that  Dr.  Stevens,  although  extremely  liberal 
and  charitable,  conducted  his  affairs  with  shrewdness  and 
economy  ;  for  out  of  a  small  salary  he  was  able  to  lay  by 
some  thousands  of  dollars,  and  at  his  death  he  was  es 
teemed  rich. 

Dr.  Stevens's  intimacy  with  the  Pepperells  brought 
upon  him  the  suspicion  of  inclining  to  the  mother  coun 
try  at  the  approach  of  the  contest  with  her  colonies. 
After  the  death  of  President  Holyoke  of  Harvard  Uni 
versity,  in  1769,  "  the  minister  of  Kittery,"  says  Hutch- 
inson,  "  would  have  had  the  voice  of  the  people  as  a 
candidate  for  the  presidency  if  his  political  principles 
had  not  been  a  bar."*  An  anecdote  often  related  indi 
cates  his  political  bias.  Upon  one  occasion,  when  he 
was  preaching  in  Portsmouth,  a  gentleman  named  Blunt 
had  a  son  to  be  baptized,  and  the  ordinance,  according 
to  the  custom  of  that  day,  was  to  take  place  immediately 
after  the  sermon.  In  the  discourse,  which  was  some 
what  political,  Oliver  Cromwell  was  mentioned,  and 
"  soundly  berated."  At  the  close,  the  parents  and  child 
were  called  for,  and  the  father,  wThen  requested  to  give 
the  name,  suppressed  the  one  previously  selected,  and 
called  out,  in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the 
whole  congregation,  "  Oliver  Cromwell,"  and  by  that 
name  the  child  was  baptized. 

That,  when  the  contest  was  finally  decided  upon,  Dr. 
Stevens  took  the  part  of  the  colonies,  is  apparent  from 
all  his  subsequent  history.  He  never  lost  in  the  smallest 
degree  the  respect  and  affection  of  his  own  parish  or  of 

*  Hutchinson's  History  of  Massachusetts.,  Vol.  III.  p.  262. 


56  DEATH    OF    DR.    STEVENS. 

the  country.  His  death  took  place  in  1791.  An  aged 
woman  now  living  relates,  that  at  his  funeral  the  shore  of 
the  beautiful  point  was  lined  with  boats,  and  the  meeting 
house  crowded  to  overflowing  with  a  weeping  multitude. 
Another  aged  person  says,  that,  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
he  was  an  early  riser  ;  that  being  employed  at  work 
opposite  the  parsonage  the  year  of  his  death,  the  first 
person  he  saw  on  every  summer  morning  was  Dr.  Ste 
vens,  at  his  study  window,  with  his  book  in  his  hand,  just 
as  the  sun  was  rising. 

The  writer,  some  years  ago,  met  \vith  a  singular  proof 
of  the  whimsical  idea  Dr.  Stevens's  parishioners  enter 
tained  of  his  great  learning.  Passing  in  a  small  boat 
over  the  river  to  the  "  Point,"  an  ancient  boatman,  who 
was  no  bad  representative  of  Charon  himself,  sat  at  the 
helm,  and  paddled  the  boat  across.  Being  asked  if  he  re 
membered  Dr.  Stevens,  —  "  Remember  him,  indeed  !  ?1 
he  answered  ;  u  he  not  only  baptized,  but  he  married  me 
also.  Ah  !  "  he  said,  "  he  was  a  prodigiously  learned 
man,  and  never  spoke  except  in  Greek  and  Hebrew." 

While  the  French  fleet  were  stationed  in  the  harbour 
near  by,  during  the  war,  the  officers  were  much  in  the 
habit  of  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  Dr.  Stevens's  parson 
age,  and  this  vicinity  came  very  near  to  depriving  him 
of  his  only  daughter.  The  father  of  an  only  child  could 
not  consent  to  her  leaving  him  for  a  distant  country,  and 
the  decision  of  the  father  was  unquestioned  by  the 
daughter. 

The  experiment  of  educating  his  daughter  himself, 
and  carrying  her  through  the  years  of  youth  without 
female  companionship,  was  eminently  successful,  if  we 
may  rely  upon  the  testimony  of  all  who  knew  her.  She 
went  to  no  dame's  school,  to  no  school  whatever,  and, 


SARAH    STEVENS.  57 

except  in  visits  made  to  her  mother's  relations,  her  father 
was  her  sole  companion,  and  her  instructer  in  English  lit 
erature, —  for  female  education  in  those  days  went  no 
further,  —  and  the  relation  between  them  was  as  unre 
served  as  it  was  singular  and  beautiful.  A  contemporary, 
now  eighty-eight  years  old,  writes,  —  "  Sarah  Stevens  was 
quoted  as  a  model  of  perfection  by  all  w7ho  knew  her." 
Only  a  few  years  ago,  the  aged  inhabitants  of  Kittery 
delighted  to  describe  her  to  the  writer  as  she  remained 
in  their  memory  in  her  riding-habit  —  or  Joseph,  as  it  was 
then  called — and  beaver  hat,  as  she  rode  by  her  father's 
side  when  he  made  his  parochial  visits,  and  the  very 
chair  she  sat  in  has  been  fondly  pointed  out.  Traces, 
too,  of  her  cultivating  hand  remain  in  the  very  shrub 
bery  that  shaded  her  window,  while  all  else  is  desolate 
about  the  parsonage. 

With  extreme  natural  sensibility,  the  seclusion  and  the 
romantic  scenery  in  which  she  lived  were  calculated  to 
develop  the  imagination,  and  to  give  a  sentimental  turn 
to  her  thoughts,  which  was  checked  by  the  stern  good- 
sense  of  the  father.  Her  letters  show  that  she  some 
times  pined  under  her  extreme  solitude,  when  winter 
storms  lashed  into  foam  the  river  that  divided  them  from 
all  society,  and  no  boat  could  pass  to  their  secluded 
dwelling.  Dr.  Stevens  was  furnished  with  resources 
for  a  winter's  day  such  as  few  of  his  brethren  possessed, 
in  the  library,  splendid  for  those  times,  which  was  left 
him  by  Sir  William  Pepperell.  The  books  were  mostly 
English  editions  of  the  very  best  authors.  At  his  own 
death,  he  bequeathed  them  for  the  use  of  the  ministers  of 
York  and  Kittery. 

The  first  letter  written  after  her  marriage,  at  the  first 
separation  from  her  husband,  shows  the  extreme  tender- 


58  LETTERS    OF 

ness  of  her  attachment  to  him.  He  was  absent  on  an 
exchange  with  Dr.  Morse,  of  Charlestown. 

"  I  have  retired  to  my  chamber,  but  my  spirits  are  so  sunk 
by  the  absence  of  my  dearest  friend,  that  I  cannot  think  of 
going  to  bed,  and  will  try  by  this  imaginary  conversation,  by 
the  aid  of  the  pen,  to  banish  the  gloom  for  a  few  minutes. 
Indeed,  my  friend,  I  hardly  ever  felt  more  unhappy  than  I  have 
this  day  ;  and  although  I  have  attended  meeting  both  parts 
of  the  day,  my  wandering  mind,  I  fear,  was  more  employed 
upon  an  earthly  object  that  was  absent,  than  engaged  in  the 
service  of  a  heavenly  Friend  who  is  always  present.  Mr. 
Morse  left  me  very  soon  after  meeting  ;  since  then  I  have 
wandered  from  one  room  to  another,  but  everywhere  I  miss 
my  companion.  I  try  to  reason  with  myself;  I  endeavour 
to  suppress  my  regrets  and  to  be  happy,  but  as  yet  my  ef 
forts  are  vain.  O  my  friend,  if  I  cannot  bear  a  separation 
for  a  few  days,  how  should  I  live  if  I  should  see  you  no 
more  ?  I  sometimes  fear  that,  for  an  undue  attachment  to  an 
earthly  object,  I  may  be  reminded  of  its  sinfulness  by  having 
it  taken  from  me  ;  but  God  grant  that  so  severe  an  affliction 
may  not  be  necessary  for  me." 

"  Monday  Night.  —  One  more  day  has  passed  without  my 
beloved  friend.  I  would  not  send  this  letter  if  I  could  not  tell 
you  that  I  have  felt  less  unhappy  than  I  did  yesterday.  It  is 
not  that  I  have  thought  less  of  you,  but  I  have  schooled  my 
self  to  be  more  reconciled  to  your  absence.  Miss  A.  has 
passed  the  day  with  me,  and  I  would  not  have  any  one  a 
witness  to  my  grief;  to  none  but  my  beloved  companion  could 

I  confess  it About   two   o'clock   we    had  a  very 

severe  storm  of  wind,  rain,  and  thunder.  The  former  made 
great  devastation  among  the  trees  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Our  little  garden,  which  I  dare  say  you  have  thought  of,  has 
suffered  less  than  could  have  been  expected  ;  some  things 


MRS.    BUCKMINSTER.  59 

are  laid  low,  but  your  beans,  I  am  thankful  to  find,  still  keep 
their  place,  or  rather  climb  higher  every  hour.  This  will 
reach  you  just  after  Commencement.  I  hope  you  have  en 
joyed  the  day,  and  that  its  fatigue  has  not  been  too  much  for 
you.  I  trust  it  has  been  every  way  agreeable,  and  that  every 
thing  will  tend  to  your  happiness  while  absent." 

At  the  end  of  the  first  year  of  her  marriage,  a  little 
daughter  was  born,  that  died  a  short  time  after  its  birth. 
The  mother  expresses  her  resignation  in  a  letter  to  her 
father  :  — 

"  Heaven  saw  best  to  disappoint  our  hopes  by  taking  the 
life  of  our  little  girl ;  I  could  have  wished  that  it  might  have 
been  spared,  but  it  was  undoubtedly  best  for  us,  as  well  as 
for  the  babe,  that  it  was  not,  therefore  I  am  resigned  and 
contented.  I  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful  that  my  own 
life  was  spared.  I  enjoy  many  more  blessings  than  I  deserve. 
My  lot  is  a  most  blessed  one,  and  I  wish  I  may  not  be  want 
ing  in  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all  my  blessings." 

Within  the  eight  short  years  that  this  grateful  and  lov 
ing  woman  formed  the  domestic  happiness  of  Dr.  Buck- 
minster,  she  became  the  mother  of  four  children.  The 
second  child  and  only  son,  Joseph,  was  six  years  old 
at  her  death.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  much  influence  such 
a  mother  must  have  had  upon  her  son.  Her  life  was 
spared  long  enough  for  her  maternal  love  to  make  those 
impressions  on  his  susceptible  mind,  that  most  deeply 
and  permanently  stamp  the  future  character.  That  she 
lived  long  enough  to  reap  the  fruit  of  her  care  in  the 
promise  of  most  gracious  dispositions  in  her  son  appears 
from  an  authentic  anecdote,  related  by  his  father  only  a 
short  time  before  his  own  death. 


60  ANECDOTE     OF    HER    SON. 

When  Joseph  was  between  five  and  six  years  old,  his 
parents  left  home  on  a  journey  for  a  few  weeks,  and  his 
father,  when  he  took  leave  of  the  boy,  said,  rather 
jestingly,  —  "  Well,  my  son,  you  must  have  an  eye  to 
the  family  while  I  am  absent,  and  see  that  every  thing 
goes  on  in  its  accustomed  regularity,"  —  never  suspecting 
the  extent  to  which  his  suggestion  would  be  acted  upon. 
Joseph  accordingly,  as  soon  as  the  hours  of  school  were 
over,  repaired  to  his  father's  study,  and  spent  the  time 
alone  with  the  books  ;  and  when  the  hour  for  the  morn 
ing  or  evening  devotions  of  the  family  arrived,  he  rang 
the  bell,  and,  in  his  sweet,  childish  voice,  summoned  the 
inmates  of  the  house  to  prayers.  He  read  a  chapter, 
with  the  commentary,  as  usual,  and  concluded  with  an 
extemporaneous  prayer  ;  and  this  with  so  much  gravity 
and  solemnity,  that,  instead  of  any  approach  to  levity  in 
the  servants,  they  were  impressed  with  deep  se'riousness, 
and  one  of  them  was  greatly  affected.  This  was  not  done 
once  or  twice,  but  continued,  with  unabated  reverence, 
during  the  absence  of  his  parents.* 

The  mother  consecrated  her  son  to  God  upon  her 
death-bed,  and  expressed  the  hope,  that,  if  his  life  were 
spared,  he  would  become  a  minister.  No  doubt  he  would 
have  followed  his  own  inclination  in  the  choice  of  a  pro 
fession,  but  it  seems  early  to  have  been  the  decided  bent 
of  his  character,  as  will  afterwards  appear. 

The  letters  of  his  mother  that  have  been  preserved 
breathe  the  utmost  tenderness  of  devotion  to  her  husband 
and  children,  and  gratitude  for  a  happiness  seldom  the 

*  The  writer  would  add,  that  this  anecdote  had  always  been  tradi 
tionary  in  the  family  ;  but  that  it  is  inserted  here  upon  the  authority 
of  Mr.  Dana,  of  Marblehead,  to  whom  Dr.  Buckminster  related  it  a 
short  time  before  his  death. 


DEATH    OF    MRS.    BITCKMINSTER.  61 

lot  of  mortals.  It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  on  her  dying 
bed  she  should  have  uttered  the  words,  —  "  Father  !  the 
cup  cannot  pass  away.  I  must  drink  it  !  Thy  will  be 
done  ! "  The  contemporary  quoted  above  adds,  "  No 
one  ever  lived  more  beloved,  or  died  more  lamented." 

It  is  a  touching  anecdote,  related  by  the  same  authority, 
of  the  aged  father,  Dr.  Stevens,  when  his  daughter  was 
lying  within  a  few  days  of  her  death,  riding  many  miles 
in  search  of  a  plant  that  he  had  heard  was  a  specific  in 
complaints  of  the  lungs.  Fond  affection  clings  to  the 
frailest  support,  and  finds  food  for  hope  where  others 
find  only  despair.  He  survived  his  daughter  only  ten 
months.  It  was  said  that  Dr.  Stevens's  death  was  occa 
sioned  by  taking  cold  at  the  funeral  of  a  parishioner  ;  but 
those  who  knew  him  intimately  said  that  he  never  was 
himself  after  the  death  of  his  child.  The  tears  that 
flowed  then  were  not  the  most  bitter  that  have  been  shed 
on  her  grave.  When  God,  in  his  holy  and  mysterious 
Providence,  takes  a  mother  from  her  infant  children,  the 
loss  is  the  most  irreparable  to  those  most  insensible  to  its 
magnitude.  Theirs  is  a  twofold  loss,  —  bereft  of  the 
remembrance,  as  well  as  of  the  possession,  of  a  mother's 
love.  She  died  July  17th,  1790. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  the  wreck  of  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster's  domestic  joys,  after  only  eight  years  of  happiness, 
left  as  he  was  with  three  motherless  children,  should  have 
brought  back  the  nervous  distress  to  which,  from  con 
stitutional  temperament,  he  was  easily  subjected.  At 
this  period  of  his  life  he  kept  a  diary,  consisting,  how 
ever,  almost  entirely  of  spiritual  exercises  and  experi 
ences  ;  of  records  of  a  sense  of  sinfulness,  aggravated 
by  a  morbid  and  exaggerated  conscientiousness. 

Into  the  sacred  records  of  the  conflicts  of  the  soul, 
6 


62  RELIGIOUS    EXPERIENCES. 

when  overwhelmed  with  nervous  distress,  the  eye  of  a 
child  has  hardly  dared  to  penetrate,  much  less  to  reveal 
them  to  the  unsympathizing  scrutiny  of  those  who  differ 
from  him  in  religious  views,  or  to  the  approving  gaze  of 
that  portion  of  Christians  who  consider  them  as  the  ne 
cessary  accompaniment  of  the  conversion  of  the  soul  to 
God.  A  prominent  religious  publication,  soon  after  his 
death,  made  use  of  a  stray  leaf  of  this  journal,  that  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  editors,  to  assert,  that  he 
entered  into  the  ministry  from  motives  utterly  defective 
and  wrong,  and  that,  after  ten  years  of  devotion  to  his 
parish,  he  expressed  a  horror  that  he  had  ever  attempted 
to  preach  ;  and  insinuated  that  conversion  had  never 
before  taken  place  in  his  soul,  and  that  the  overwhelming 
view  that  he  now  took  of  his  personal  vileness,  of  the 
deceit  and  desperate  wickedness  of  his  heart,  —  so  that  he 
intermitted  preaching,  and  all  family  devotion,  because 
he  thought  himself  unworthy  to  continue  in  the  ministry, 
—  was  the  true,  and  not  the  diseased,  state  of  his  mind. 
His  nervous  disease,  which  is  now  far  better  under 
stood  than  at  that  time,  ever  took  the  form  of  exaggerated 
conscientiousness,  melancholy  apprehensions  abowt  the 
religious  state  of  his  friends,  and  of  his  own  religious 
condition  and  safety.  The  morbid  and  diseased  state  of 
his  health  induced  constant  iteration  of  the  fear,  that  he 
had  sinned  beyond  the  reach  of  mercy  ;  that  his  ministry 
had  been  only  a  hypocritical  exercise  of  sinful  or  insin 
cere  experiments,  and  that  he  had  ruined  all  with  whom 
he  had  ever  been  connected.  There  is  certainly  a  want 
of  candor,  or  an  absence  of  philosophical  insight,  in  mak 
ing  use  of  the  expressions  of  a  morbid  conscientiousness 
as  the  proofs  of  a  wicked  or  unregenerate  state  of  the 
heart. 


RELIGIOUS    DIARY.  63 

The  above-mentioned  journal  was  soon  after  discon 
tinued,  and  the  writer  has  heard  her  father,  later  in 
life,  remark,  that  he  considered  such  records  as  delusive 
representations  of  the  state  of  the  religious  affections, 
eminently  calculated  to  produce  self-deception,  mislead 
ing  the  writer  into  exaggerated  ideas  of  the  evil  in  the 
heart  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  by  recording  transient 
emotions  and  elevated  devotional  feeling,  a  too  exalted 
state  is  induced,  in  danger  of  leading  to  spiritual  pride 
and  to  false  security. 

During  the  last  illness  and  death  of  his  wife,  this  diary 
contains  scarcely  a  record,  except  of  the  alternate  feeling 
of  hope  and  of  despair  produced  in  his  own  mind  as 
the  slight  variations  of  better  and  worse  in  the  delusive 
malady  of  consumption  took  place.  And  when  there 
was  no  more  hope,  all  other  records  were  wiped  away, 
and  she  alone  "  lived  in  the  book,  and  in  the  volume  of 
the  brain,  the  tablets  of  the  heart." 

In  this  season  of  his  affliction,  October  18th,  1790, 
he  was  chosen  Professor  of  Theology  of  Phillips  Exe 
ter  Academy,  the  trustees  of  this  richly  endowed 
institution  having  then  the  intention  of  making  it  more 
of  a  school  of  theology  than  appears  to  have  been  the 
object  of  the  founder.  Sympathizing  friends  urged  his 
acceptance  of  this  office,  hoping  that  change  of  scene 
and  occupation  would  heal  the  deep  wounds  of  an  afflic 
tive  Providence.  But  he  was  now  firmly  rooted  in  the 
affections  of  his  people  in  Portsmouth,  and  decided  to 
remain  among  them  ;  and,  indeed,  no  other  sphere  of 
usefulness  could  have  been  half  so  appropriate.  From 
the  time  of  his  affliction,  his  people  observed  in  him,  if  it 
were  possible,  an  increase  of  spirituality  and  fervor  in  the 
work  of  his  ministry.  He  was  in  labors  more  abundant, 


64  SECOND    MARRIAGE. 

anxious  "  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  his  Master's  service." 
To  quote  the  words  of  another,  "  He  loved  the  work  of 
his  Divine  Lord  and  Master  above  every  thing  else,  and 
nothing  gave  him  so  much  joy  as  to  be  able  to  win  souls 
to  Christ.  There  was  a  wonderful  pathos  in  his  suppli 
cations  to  the  throne  of  Divine  grace,  and  a  wonderful 
variety  and  pertinence  in  all  his  professional  services. 
At  the  communion-table,  in  the  chamber  of  sickness,  in 
the  house  of  mourning,  and  at  the  grave,  his  addresses 
were  extremely  appropriate,  tender,  and  deeply  impres 
sive." 

It  is  said  in  the  Life  of  Dr.  Dwight,*  that  an  eminent 
civilian,  hearing  Mr.  Buckminster  pray,  after  the  death 
of  General  Washington,  remarked,  that  Mr.  Buckmin 
ster  deserved  no  credit  for  that  prayer,  for  it  was  the 
effect  of  immediate  Divine  inspiration.  Such  an  impres 
sion  was  often  left  by  his  occasional  services  ;  but  his 
prayers  were  only  the  fruit  of  a  devout  heart.  They 
breathed  a  spirit  of  ardent  piety.  They  were  evidence 
that  "  human  wants  and  human  sorrows,  the  dangers 
which  encompass  the  Christian's  course,  and  the  conflicts 
to  which  goodness  is  exposed,  were  subjects  of  his  ha 
bitual  thought."  He  considered  devotion  as  the  life  of 
Christian  goodness,  and,  to  promote  it  in  his  parish,  he 
appointed  two  evenings  in  the  week  for  private  meetings 
with  two  different  classes  of  his  people  ;  the  sisters  of 
the  church,  and  the  young  people,  who  were  prompted 
by  an  interest  in  religion  to  seek  counsel  of  their  pastor. 

In  the  year  1793,  Mr.  Buckminster  gave  a  mother  to 
his  bereaved  children,  by  marrying  Mary  Lyman,  the 
daughter  of  Rev.  Isaac  Lyman  of  York,  and  sister  of 

*  Sparks's  Biography,  Life  of  President  Dwight,  by  W.  B.  Sprague. 


SALARY    AND    CHILDREN.  65 

the  late  Theodore  Lyman,  Esq.,  of  Boston.  With  a 
disposition  eminently  cheerful,  and  a  heart  entirely  de 
voted  to  domestic  joys  and  interests, —  as  a  fond  moth 
er,  and  a  careful  guardian  of  all  that  could  constitute  the 
charm  of  home,  —  she  made  him  eminently  happy  in 
this  connection.  While  she  enjoyed  health,  and  indeed 
while  she  lived,  although  cares  pressed  and  children  mul 
tiplied,  his  cheerfulness  never  failed.  He  had  no  attack 
of  nervous  disease,  and  but  a  momentary  depression  of 
spirits. 

In  the  last  century,  the  salaries  of  ministers  were  very 
small,  at  least  in  all  places  except  that  which  has  been 
called  the  paradise  of  their  order,  Boston.  Mr.  Buck- 
minster's  society  at  Portsmouth  was  as  liberal  as  any 
other  there,  but  his  salary  was  not  sufficient  to  spare  the 
pastor  from  those  anxieties  and  cares  which  are  peculiar 
ly  wearing  to  generous  and  refined  natures.  He  was  ex 
tremely  generous  in  his  disposition,  and  hospitable  in  his 
habits,  and  would  gladly  have  had  all  his  brethren  at 
his  frugal  table.  His  settlement  was  upon  the  value  of 
wheat  and  Indian  corn,  and  varied  extremely  in  differ 
ent  years  ;  but  never  did  the  amount,  I  think,  exceed 
six  or  seven  hundred  dollars.  With  these  rather  lim 
ited  means,  it  was  a  fixed  principle  with  him  never  to 
owe  any  thing.  He  never  allowed  himself  to  purchase 
a  thing  for  which  he  could  not  pay  upon  the  spot,  deny 
ing  himself  and  family  rather  than  incur  a  debt. 

Providence  richly  endowed  him  with  what  has  been 
called  the  minister's  blessing,  children.  His  quiver  was 
full  of  them,  and  the  olive-branches  grew  thick  around 
his  table,  upon  which,  as  may  be  supposed,  the  meal 
was  simple  and  frugal,  and  the  elastic  cord  of  means 
needed  to  be  stretched  to  the  utmost  to  make  both  the 
6* 


66  DEATH    OF    CHILDREN. 

ends  meet  around  a  year's  expenses.  He  suffered  much 
domestic  grief  in  the  loss  of  many  lovely  children,  who 
were  taken  away  at  the  most  attractive  period  of  life,  — 
at  the  ages  of  one  and  two  years  ;  and  the  tenderness  of 
his  nature  was  deeply  touched  at  such  losses.  Five  of 
his  twelve  children  died  in  infancy. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EARLY  DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE   CHARACTER  OF   HIS   SON 

JOSEPH. LETTERS  BETWEEN  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 

EXETER  ACADEMY. 

JOSEPH  STEVENS,  the  eldest  son  of  Dr.  Buck- 
minster,  was  born  May  26th,  1784.  It  has  been  men 
tioned  in  the  last  chapter,  that  his  mother  on  her  death 
bed  prayed  that  her  son  might  be  devoted  to  the  church  ; 
for  this  purpose  both  parents  took  the  greatest  delight  in 
cultivating  his  mind,  —  a  mind,  too,  of  such  early  prom 
ise,  as  almost  from  infancy  gave  indication  of  its  excel 
lence.  I  quote  the  letter  of  his  eldest  sister  :  *  — 

"  I  do  not  know  how  soon  my  brother  was  able  to  read  ; 
but  at  four  years  old  he  began  lo  sudy  the  Latin  Grammar,, 
and  had  so  great  a  desire  to  learn  the  Greek  also,  that  my 
father,  to  please  him,  taught  him  to  read  a  chapter  in  the 
Greek  Testament  by  pronouncing  to  him  the  words.  As 
early  as  this  he  evinced  that  love  for  books  and  ardent 
thirst  for  knowledge  which  he  possessed  through  life.  He 
was  seldom  willing,  while  a  child,  to  leave  his  books  for  any 
amusement;  my  father  was  so  much  afraid  that  close  ap 
plication  would  injure  his  health,  that  he  used  to  reward 
him  for  playing  with  boys  of  his  own  age,  and  would  go 

*  Afterwards  the  wife   of  John  Farrar,  Hollis  Professor  of  Mathe 
matics  in  Harvard  University. 


68  EARLY    DOCILITY    OF    JOSEPH. 

with  him  to  persuade  him  by  example  to  take  part  in  their 
sports.  I  have  no  recollection  that,  when  we  were  children, 
he  ever  did  any  thing  wrong.  He  had  always  the  same 
open,  candid  disposition  that  marked  his  manhood,  nor  can 
I  recollect  any  time  when  I  did  not  feel  perfect  confidence 
that  whatever  he  did  was  right.  From  the  time  he  was  five 
till  he  was  seven  years  old,  it  was  his  practice  to  call  the 
domestics  together  on  Sabbath  mornings,  and  read  to  them 
one  of  my  father's  manuscript  sermons,  repeat  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  sing  a  hymn ;  and  he  performed  the  service 
with  such  earnestness,  that  he  was  always  listened  to  with 
attention.  I  have  heard  my  dear  father  say  that  he  never 
knew  him  to  tell  an  untruth,  or  to  prevaricate  in  the  least. 
Indeed,  there  was  always  something  about  him  that  gained 
the  love  of  all  who  knew  him." 

But  though  the  nature  of  the  boy  was  most  docile, 
rich,  and  promising,  the  history  of  his  short  life  will 
show  that  it  was  not  genius  alone  that  made  him  so 
early  eminent ;  that  it  was  to  his  father's  extraordinary 
care  and  watchfulness  that  he  was  indebted  for  the  early 
excellence  of  his  character  ;  and,  further,  that  there  was 
nothing  precocious  in  his  mind.  Every  thing  that  he 
was  and  did  was  the  natural  fruit  of  previous  sowing, 
watering,  culture ;  so  that,  had  he  lived,  what  he  had 
already  accomplished  would  have  been  regarded  by  him 
but  as  immature  and  imperfect,  — marking  only  an  epoch 
in  a  development  of  his  mind  that  would  still  have  gone 
on  in  continual  progress. 

Still,  the  temperament  of  his  youthful  mind  seems 
to  have  been  of  that  elastic  and  buoyant  character,  which 
no  kind  of  education  could  have  depressed  or  confined. 
A  gentle  docility,  a  serene  gayety,  was  ever  the  character 
of  his  disposition.  This  shone  always  in  his  counte- 


PURITAN    EDUCATION.  69 

nance,  and  was  apparent  in  the  freedom  of  all  his  bear 
ing.  He  was,  too,  in  his  boyhood,  eminently  handsome. 
The  open  brow,  shaded  with  chestnut  curls,  and  the 
beautiful  hazel  eyes,  attracted  the  attention  of  strangers 
who  met  him  in  the  street;  and,  in  one  instance,  a  gen 
tleman  and  lady,  travellers,  passing  through  Portsmouth, 
charmed  by  his  beautiful  countenance,  followed  him  to 
his  home,  and  made  the  singular  request  to  be  permitted 
to  adopt  him  as  their  own  son. 

Thus  girt  round  with  all  domestic,  all  religious  influ 
ences,  —  all  obedience  upon  one  side,  all  watchful  care 
upon  the  other,  —  it  seems  as  though  it  would  be  impos 
sible  for  the  young  feet  to  stray,  or  the  young  heart  to 
throb  with  any  but  peaceful  wishes  ;  and  with  so  docile 
a  nature  as  Joseph's,  all  went  well.  But  in  the  stoical 
homes  of  our  Puritan  childhood,  free-will  was  too  much 
restrained  ;  the  child  was  subjected  to  the  bonds  of  a 
too  strict  obedience  ;  the  struggle  of  even  innocent  de 
sires  with  the  Puritan  ideas  of  parental  authority  planted 
many  a  cypress-tree  in  the  young  heart,  under  whose 
shade  perished  the  opening  buds  and  beautiful  flowers 
of  joy.  It  may  be  a  question  hard  to  decide,  whether 
is  more  conducive  to  the  happiness  of  the  whole  of  life 
the  former  iron-bound  obedience  or  the  present  un 
limited  indulgence.  If  it  be  true,  as  Goethe  in  all  the 
calm  sincerity  of  a  life  of  great  experiences  asserts,  that 
"  only  with  renunciation  can  life,  properly  speaking, 
be  said  to  begin,"  then  the  earlier  and  the  more 
complete  the  self-denial  in  the  first  years  of  life,  the 
more  prepared  will  the  child  be  for  happiness  and  for 
duty.  But  when  we  reflect  how  small  is  the  portion 
of  happiness  that  sometimes  comes  to  dwell  in  the  same 
heart  in  after  life,  is  it  not  unjust  to  abridge  the  inno 
cent  joys  of  childhood  ? 


70  FRIENDSHIPS    OF    BOYHOOD. 

"  Since  sorrow  never  comes  too  late, 

And  happiness  too  swiftly  flies, 
No  more;  —  where  ignorance  is  bliss, 
'T  is  folly  to  be  wise." 

Of  youthful,  or  rather  boyish  friendships  formed  at 
this  early  period  of  Joseph's  life,  I  can  remember  only 
two.  The  participator  of  one  of  them,  Jacob  Picker 
ing,  Esq.,  of  Portsmouth,  yet  survives.  The  object  of 
the  other  youthful  attachment  was  a  very  promising  lad, 
of  the  same  age,  George  M.  Sheafe,  the  son  of  James 
Sheafe,  of  Portsmouth.  The  two  friends  entered  Exe 
ter  Academy  together,  were  classmates  at  college,  and 
the  early  death  of  Sheafe,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  was 
deeply  regretted  by  his  young  friend.  His  letters,  in 
the  round  hand  of  a  school-boy,  were  all  carefully  pre 
served. 

Till  the  age  of  ten,  Joseph  remained  at  the  gram 
mar  school  in  Portsmouth,  taught  by  Mr.  Amos  Tap- 
pan,  who  married  Dr.  Buckminster's  sister,  and  who 
was  brother  of  Rev.  David  Tappan,  Professor  of  Di 
vinity  at  Harvard  University.  It  was  now  necessary 
that  he  should  enter  a  higher  school.  Phillips  Exe 
ter  Academy  then,  as  now,  enjoyed  a  reputation  sec 
ond  to  none  in  the  country.  It  was  under  the  instruc 
tion  of  that  most  excellent  man  and  renowned  instruct- 
er,  Mr.  Benjamin  Abbot.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that 
no  history  of  Exeter  Academy  has  ever  been  writ 
ten.  Probably  more  distinguished  men  have  been  edu 
cated  at  that  school,  and  have  been  benefited  by  the 
instruction  of  its  distinguished  preceptor,  than  at  any 
other  in  the  United  States. 

Few  anecdotes  remain  of  Joseph's  boyhood,  and  at 
the  distance  of  half  a  century  there  is  no  possibility  of 


71 

collecting  more.  Nearly  all  are  dead  who  witnessed  the 
early  unfolding  of  this  bud  of  promise.  His  eldest 
sister  could  remember  his  childhood,  but  the  present 
writer  was  too  young  to  recollect  any  thing  of  him  be 
fore  he  went  to  college.  She  was  not  then  seven  years 
old,  and  even  the  vacations  that  brought  him  under  the 
paternal  roof  have  left  only  a  faint  impression.  It  is 
remarkable  that  his  father  never,  in  a  letter  or  in  any 
other  way,  gave  the  least  indication  that  he  was  im 
pressed  by  the  extraordinary  unfolding  of  his  son's 
character.  His  early  excellence  seems  to  have  been 
expected,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  only  the  natural 
result  of  extraordinary  care. 

There  were  two  persons  witnesses  of  his  childish 
attractions,  "  who  kept  all  these  things  in  their  hearts," 
and,  had  they  lived,  would  have  preserved  rich  stores 
of  anecdote.  One  was  an  old  domestic,  who  had  lived 
with  his  mother,  and  remained  the  faithful  nurse  of  her 
children  till  their  father  married  again.  She  loved  them 
all,  but  Joseph  was  her  idol.  She  had  no  power  of  ex 
pressing  her  love  and  admiration,  and  until  he  was  grown 
to  man's  estate,  whenever  "  Old  Hannah  "  met  him,  she 
threw  her  arms  around  him,  and  kissed  him  on  each  side 
of  the  face,  and  on  his  forehead  and  lips.  She  always 
found  out  when  he  was  expected  at  his  father's  house, 
and,  dressing  herself  in  her  old-fashioned  suit,  preserved 
with  the  greatest  care  for  Sundays  and  for  this  occa 
sion,  she  was  on  the  spot  to  greet  her  darling  with  tears 
and  smiles  and  inarticulate  joy. 

The  other  was  an  aunt,  the  sister  of  his  father,  al 
ready  mentioned, —  a  most  noble-hearted,  excellent  wom 
an,  a  strict  Calvinist,  whose  creed  was  sadly  at  variance 
with  her  warm  heart.  She  maintained,  in  conversa- 


72  EXETER   ACADEMY. 

tion,  that  every  little  son  and  daughter  of  Adam  was  the 
subject  of  sin  and  of  correction  before  they  were  nine 
months  old,  and  in  theory  she  was  a  great  friend  to  the 
rod  ;  but  she  always  said  that  she  could  find  nothing 
wrong  in  Joseph,  and  never  punished  him.  She  was 
childless,  but  her  house  was  never  without  two  or  three 
orphan  children  ;  and  she  became  so  indulgent  in  prac 
tice,  that  her  last  adopted  child  would  have  been  utterly 
spoiled,  had  she  been  susceptible  of  spoiling. 

Joseph  entered  Exeter  Academy  in  the  autumn  of 
the  year  1795,  having  completed  his  eleventh  year  the 
preceding  May.  The  letters  of  the  father  to  the  son 
while  at  Exeter  were  preserved  with  the  utmost  care 
fulness  by  the  boy.  Every  trivial  scrap,  even  on  half  a 
leaf  of  paper,  was  hoarded  with  a  miser's  care.  They 
have  been  treated  with  like  scrupulous  respect,  and,  of 
the  few  introduced,  not  one  word  has  been  altered  ;  even 
the  original  punctuation  has  remained  unchanged.  The 
son's  letters  were  also  as  carefully  preserved  for  many 
years,  but,  with  other  family  papers,  were  destroyed  by 
accidental  fire  not  many  years  ago. 

The  first  and  second  letters  of  the  father  are  with 
out  date  :  — 

"  I  have  in  a  sense  but  just  left  you,  my  dear  son,  but  so 
great  is  my  affection  and  concern  for  you  that  I  gladly  em 
brace  every  opportunity  of  writing  to  you,  and  wish  you 
may  have  a  similar  affection  and  concern  for  us.  Your 
situation  is  such  as  I  think  must  be  agreeable  and  advan 
tageous  to  you,  and  if  you  behave  yourself  well,  with  the 
smiles  of  Providence,  you  will  be  respected  and  happy. 
I  am  pleased  to  see  your  respectful  and  manly  behaviour 


LETTERS  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  TO  HIS  SON.      73 

in  the  family;  continue  to  do  so,  and  especially  at  any 
time  in  the  absence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rowland ;  never  do 
any  thing  because  they  are  gone  which  you  would  not  do 
if  they  were  at  home  ;  nor  do  any  thing  of  which  you  would 
be  ashamed,  because  you  think  you  can  keep  it  secret;  such 
conduct  discovers  a  little  and  base  mind.  If  you  acci 
dentally  do  any  mischief,  (and  I  hope  you  will  never  do 
any  with  design,)  do  not  endeavour  to  hide,  but  acknowl 
edge  it,  and  be  sorry.  Cultivate  a  sincere  respect  for  your 
instructers,  and  never  cherish  prejudices  against  them.  In- 
structers,  who  are  entitled  to  the  respect  of  their  pupils, 
love  those  that  respect  them.  I  have  borrowed  a  Sallust 
for  you  from  Judge  Parker.  Take  especial  care  of  bor 
rowed  books. 

"  Do  not  study  too  hard,  so  as  to  injure  your  eyes,  and 
do  not  be  too  anxious  about  acquitting  yourself:  be  easy 
and  contented  in  yourself:  fear  God,  and  pray  to  him.  Be 
respectful  and  kind  to  all  men,  and  be  not  too  forward  in  the 
company  of  your  superiors.  Be  swift  to  hear,  but  slow  to 
speak. 

"  We  have  a  smart  shower  upon  us,  and  in  our  anxiety 
fear  you  will  get  wet.  Be  careful,  lest  you  should  be 
again  seized  with  the  rheumatism.  We  all  love  you  and 
long  to  hear  from  you.  Your  sisters,  though  they,  poor  girls, 
cannot  write,*  will  be  glad  to  have  a  little  letter  from  you." 

I  would  not  swell  these  pages  with  all  the  father's  let 
ters  to  the  son,  of  which  one  was  written  every  week 
during  his  residence  at  Exeter  Academy.  But  it  must 
be  recollected  that  the  boy  was  only  eleven  years  old, 
and  I  shall  select  only  such  passages  as  show  with  what 
minute  care  and  tender  solicitude  his  every  footstep  was 
followed  by  the  anxious  father. 

*  His  sisters  were  of  the  ages  of  eight  and  five. 

7 


74      LETTERS  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  TO  HIS  SON. 

"Your  letter,  my  dear  son,  was  received  with  pleasure, 
as  all  your  letters  are ;  but  the  pleasure  in  this  case  was  a 
little  heightened  by  inclosing  your  first  attempt  at  com 
position,  with  a  request  that  I  would  mention  such  correc 
tions  as  might  be  made  in  it.  It  is  very  well,  I  think,  for 
the  first  attempt.  I  do  not  discover  any  grammatical  in 
accuracies,  which  are  very  common  in  juvenile  productions, 
but  there  is  a  little  inaccuracy  in  saying  '  these  are  the 
consequences,'  when  you  have  mentioned  but  one  real  con 
sequence. 

"  The  great  art  of  composition  is  to  write  easily  and  in 
telligibly  ;  perspicuity  is  the  first  thing  in  writing ;  if  a  per 
son  find  that  his  meaning  is  obscure,  he  may  be  sure  there 
is  some  defect  in  the  attempt.  You  must  not  be  grieved 
if  at  first  your  preceptor  blots  your  pieces  with  correc 
tions  ;  there  is  nothing  attained  without  labor  and  care,  and 
it  is  a  happiness  to  have  an  able  and  faithful  friend  who 
will  correct  our  blunders. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  disposed  to  get  forward  in  your 
studies,  but  you  must  take  care  of  your  health,  and  remem 
ber  that  we  are  not  scholars  in  proportion  to  what  we  run 
over,  but  in  proportion  to  what  we  understand  and  make 
our  own.  I  have  known  some  boys  that  have  only  studied 
one  Evangelist  better  Grecians  than  others,  who  have  run 
over  the  whole  Greek  Testament.  You  will  follow  your 
preceptor's  directions ;  but  I  wish  you  now,  while  you  are 
so  young,  principally  to  attend  to  the  languages. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  son,  I  must  repeat  my  admonitions 
and  exhortations  to  you,  to  abhor  that  which  is  evil,  and 
cleave  to  that  which  is  good.  It  is  a  critical  and  impor 
tant  season  with  you.  O,  be  watchful  against  forming  any 
vicious  habits ;  resist  the  first  beginnings  of  temptation. 
Fear  the  great  name  of  the  Lord  your  God,  and  do  not  al 
low  yourself  to  use  it  profanely  upon  any  occasion  what 
ever,  nor  make  those  your  companions  who  do ;  keep  your- 


LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER    TO    HIS    SON.  75 

self  pure  ;  never  allow  impure  thoughts  to  enter  your  mind, 
or  impure  words  to  come  from  your  lips.  You  have  written 
so  well  against  falsehood,  that  I  hope  you  will  never  con 
tradict  your  first  attempt  at  composition  in  your  practice. 
Treat  all  your  superiors  with  respect,  especially  Madam 
Phillips,  [the  widow  of  the  founder  of  the  Academy,]  and  be 
obliging  to  her  in  little  things  as  well  as  great,  and  be  al 
ways  forward  to  oblige.  Observe  the  Sabbath  in  public 
and  in  private,  and  let  no  morning  nor  evening  pass  with 
out  committing  yourself  to  God,  for  his  protection  and 
blessing.  If  we  lie  down  or  rise  up  without  thanking 
him  for  the  protection  of  the  night,  or  for  the  mercies  of 
the  day,  we  should  not  wonder  if  his  blessing  is  with 
drawn  from  us. 

"  I  say  not  these  things  to  grieve  you,  but  as  my  beloved 
son  I  warn  you,  and  because  I  love  you  I  admonish  and 
exhort  you,  and  wish  you  to  be  amiable,  and  virtuous,  and 
happy." 

It  must  be  recollected,  in  reading  the  next  letter,  that 
the  boy  was  only  eleven  years  of  age. 

"  January  5th,  1796. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  We  are  always  glad  to  receive  let 
ters  from  you,  whether  their  contents  be  more  or  less  in 
teresting,  as  they  are  pledges  in  some  sort  for  your  good 
behaviour.  Children  can  have  no  friends  so  nearly  in 
terested  in  their  welfare  as  their  parents,  and  they  should 
treat  them  with  openness  and  filial  confidence,  and  in  every 
interesting  matter  seek  their  advice  and  direction;  while 
a  child  governs  himself  by  principle  and  acts  .with  dis 
cretion  he  will  have  nothing  to  conceal  from  a  kind  par 
ent.  But  when  he  means  to  give  himself  up  to  the  guid 
ance  of  passion  instead  of  reason,  he  must  seek  other  ad 
visers  than  parents,  and  his  intercourse  with  them  will  be 


76      LETTERS  OF  DR.  BUCKM1NSTER  TO  HIS  SON. 

timid  and  reserved.  I  hope,  my  son,  you  will  never  get  into 
the  way  of  reserve  with  your  parents,  nor  expose  yourself 
to  the  bitter  reflections  of  your  own  mind  :  young  people 
may  find  the  young  who  will  flatter  their  passions,  and  give 
them  advice  that  may  be  more  congenial  to  their  feelings, 
but  nature  directs  children  to  their  parents  for  counsel.  You 
know,  in  Scripture  history,  how  badly  it  fared  with  Solomon 
for  forsaking  the  counsel  of  the  old  man  and  following  the 
advice  of  the  young.  You  will  find  some  persons  who  are 
profane,  some  who  are  obscene  in  their  discourse,  some 
that  ridicule  all  religion,  and  some  who  have  no  principle 
of  any  kind.  I  hope,  my  son,  you  will  be  on  your  guard 
not  to  be  corrupted  by  any  of  them ;  the  worst  of  them 
esteem  those  more  highly  whom  they  cannot  corrupt,  al 
though  they  may  affect  to  ridicule  them  ;  and  the  estimation 
of  one  virtuous  man  which  is  secured  by  good  principle 
and  conduct  is  of  more  value  than  the  pretended  estima 
tion  of  a  thousand  of  the  profane. 

"  I  send  you  Xenophon's  Cyropasdia ;  you  must  use  it 
with  care,  as  I  hope  you  will  all  your  books,  but  especially 
borrowed  ones.  A  soiled  book  is  a  suspicious  indication 
of  an  idle  scholar.  I  have  never  read  '  The  Retreat  of 
the  Ten  Thousand.'  It  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me 
what  particular  books  you  study,  provided  they  be  such 
as  are  calculated  to  forward  you  in  the  object  of  all  learn 
ing,  to  be  useful  in  life ;  this  should  be  our  object,  my  son, 
to  be  useful  to  our  fellow-men.  As  to  the  course  of  your 
studies  I  wish  you  to  be  directed  by  your  preceptor. 

"  We  thank  you  for  your  wishes  for  a  happy  year,  and 
all  of  us  return  them.  That  will  be  a  happy  year,  my  dear 
son,  that  is  spent  in  a  faithful  attendance  upon  duty,  and 
in  the  love  and  fear  of  God." 

"  August,  1796. 
"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  was  glad  to  hear  by  your  letter  that 


LETTERS  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  TO  HIS  SON.      77 

you  were  better  than  when  you  wrote  before.  I  hope  you 
will  pay  attention  to  your  health,  that  you  will  take  a  due 
degree  of  moderate  exercise,  and  be  careful  of  being  too 
long  exposed  to  the  evening  air.  But  especially  take  care 
of  the  health  of  your  mind ;  keep  yourself  pure  and  in 
dulge  no  impure  imaginations,  no  impure  talking  or  jesting. 
I  hope  God  will  bless  you  and  make  you  a  blessing. 

"  I  have  some  agreeable  intelligence  to  communicate  to 
you  this  morning.  You  are  no  longer,  my  dear,  without 
a  brother.  Your  mamma  had  a  fine  son  born  this  morning. 
You  will  wish  to  come  home  and  see  the  young  stranger. 
He  will  be  to  you  a  younger  brother.  God  grant  that  you 
may  be  to  him  an  example  of  every  thing  that  is  good  and 
lovely  in  his  sight. 

"  You  must  remember,  my  dear  son,  that  although,  through 
the  advantages  you  have  enjoyed,  you  have  made  tolerable 
proficiency  in  learning,  yet  that  you  are  very  young ;  only 
a  boy ;  and  that  you  must  not  consider  yourself  at  your 
own  disposal :  you  must  be  careful  of  the  connections  you 
form,  and  not  think  because  a  scholar  is  older  than  your 
self,  or  even  a  man,  that  therefore  you  may  intrust  yourself 
to  his  disposal.  Sometimes  older  scholars  have  been  the 
unhappy  instruments  of  ruining  younger  ones  by  poisoning 
their  minds  and  corrupting  their  hearts.  Fear  God  your 
self,  and  be  a  companion  of  those  who  fear  him;  fear  Him, 
my  son,  who  seeth  in  secret,  and  from  whom  no  darkness 
can  conceal.  Believe  a  father  who  loves  you,  the  way  to 
De  comfortable  and  happy  in  life  is  to  preserve  a  pure,  open, 
and  honest  mind. 

"  I  send  you  herewith  Priestley's  Lectures  on  History 
and  Policy,  which  your  preceptor  will  direct  you  how  to 
improve.  You  must  be  careful  of  it  and  not  soil  or  deface 
it.  A  neat  scholar  is  known  by  the  appearance  of  his 
books. 

"  Be  careful,  my  dear  son,  to  cultivate  the  fear  and  love 
7  * 


78      LETTERS  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  TO  HIS  SON. 

of  God  ;  forget  not  to  pray  to  him  daily,  and  commit  all  you 
do  to  him. 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"  J.  BUCKMINSTER." 

The  reiterated  charges  of  his  father  to  preserve  his 
books  with  extreme  care  were  partly  from  the  consid 
eration  that  most  of  the  books  of  his  advanced  studies 
were  borrowed  from  friends.  There  were  at  this 
time  no  American  editions  of  Cicero,  Sallust,  and 
Xenophon,  and  the  English  prints  of  classics  were  far 
beyond  the  means  of  expenditure  of  a  clergyman  of 
the  day.  The  delicate  boy  was  subjected  to  many 
hardships  in  consequence  of  his  father's  limited  means. 
From  Exeter,  and  a  part  of  the  way  from  Cambridge, 
he  was  obliged  to  walk  to  his "  home  to  save  the  ex 
pense  of  stage  hire.  The  absolute  need  of  boots  and 
shoes  ;  the  necessity  of  having  the  discarded  clothes 
of  the  father  cut  down  to  fit  the  son,  and  "old  ones 
made  amaist  as  good  as  new  "  ;  all  these  petty  material 
interests  occupy  many  of  the  letters,  and  find  a  place 
in  all.  We  cannot  but  feel  a  painful  sympathy  with  the 
diligent  boy,  who,  when  he  had  saved  all  his  pocket- 
money  to  buy  a  new  pair  of  boots,  finding  it  insuf 
ficient,  was  forced  to  have  his  old  ones  patched. 

Joseph  remained  at  Exeter  Academy,  under  the  in 
struction  of  Dr.  Abbot,  more  than  a  year.  He  was  so 
thoroughly  prepared  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  Grammars 
under  the  instruction  of  his  father,  and  that  of  Mr.  Amos 
Tappan  of  the  Portsmouth  Grammar  School,  that  he 
had  no  occasion  to  spend  time  upon  them  at  the  Acad 
emy.  As  he  was  only  eleven  years  old,  it  may  seem  in 
credible  to  young  persons,  who  at  that  age  are  just  be- 


JOSEPH'S  STUDIES  AND  READINGS.  79 

ginning  the  laborious  task  of  learning  the  grammars  ;  but 
it  must  be  recollected  that,  from  the  testimony  of  his 
eldest  sister,  he  began  to  study  the  Latin  at  four  years 
of  age,  and  the  Greek  nearly  as  early.  His  father  in 
one  of  his  letters  advises  him,  if  his  class  is  ciphering, 
to  go  over  again  with  them  what  he  had  previously  learnt 
of  arithmetic,  but  he  usually  directs  him  to  pay  his  prin 
cipal  attention  to  the  languages.  It  was  not  with  Joseph 
as  it  was  with  Dr.  Johnson,  who,  when  asked  how  he 
had  acquired  so  accurate  a  knowledge  of  Latin,  in  which 
no  man  excelled  him,  answered  that  u  it  was  whipped 
into  him."  Joseph  was  never  punished  while  he  was 
at  the  Academy.  A  record  remains,  kept  by  himself, 
of  the  books  he  studied  at  Exeter.  They  were  the  Greek 
Testament,  the  Iliad,  and  Xenophon's  Cyropsedia,  Hor 
ace's  Epistles,  Sallust,  and  Cicero.  There  is  still  pre 
served  his  translation  of  Cicero's  Jlmicitia,  and  of  a  part 
of  Sallust,  in  the  round  hand  of  the  school-boy,  bearing 
the  rare  corrections  of.  the  instructer.  In  the  last  quar 
ter  that  he  remained,  he  reviewed  the  Greek  Testament, 
Cicero,  and  Virgil,  and  read  Livy's  Roman  History. 
He  also  studied  Blair's  Rhetoric,  and  Morse's  larger 
Geography. 

He  kept,  also,  a  record  of  the  books  which  he  took 
out  of  the  library  of  the  Academy,  for  voluntary  reading. 
The  reading  of  a  school-boy  of  eleven  and  twelve  years 
may  perhaps  be  interesting  to  those  who  are  curious 
in  the  history  of  individual  mind,  and  the  writer  may  per 
haps  be  excused  for  thinking  that  every  thing  is  in 
teresting  in  the  formation  of  a  mind  so  rare.  The  date 
is  set  down  upon  which  every  book  is  taken  out  and 
regularly  returned.  They  were  Rollin's  Ancient  History, 
16  vols.  Svo  ;  The  Life  of  Cicero,  3  vols.  8vo ;  Ken- 


80  JOSEPH'S  STUDIES  AND  READINGS. 

net's  Roman  Antiquities  ;  and  D'Arnay's  Private  Life  of 
the  Romans.  As  books  of  amusement  he  has  set  down 
The  Spectator,  Moore's  France,  and  Sir  William  Tem 
ple's  Essays.  He  was  fond  of  reading  romances,  but 
rarely  indulged  himself  in  so  attractive  a  pastime. 

That  he  devoured  books  with  the  greatest  avidity  ap 
pears  from  an  anecdote  which  remains  well  attested  in  the 
family.  In  one  of  the  vacations  he  had  procured  Bos- 
well's  Life  of  Johnson,  in  a  quarto  volume.  Pie  was 
standing  leaning  upon  the  mantel-piece  when  he  began 
to  read,  the  book  resting  upon  the  shelf.  So  complete 
ly  was  he  absorbed  by  that,  tahim,  fascinating  book,  that 
he  neither  moved  nor  paused,  even  to  eat,  till  he  was 
wholly  exhausted,  and  fainted  from  weariness.  An  anec 
dote  of  the  same  kind  is  told  of  himself  by  Mr.  Web 
ster,  only  the  book  that  fascinated  him  so  completely  was 
Don  Quixote  ;  he  neither  paused  to  eat  or  sleep,  so  great 
was  the  power  of  that  remarkable  book  upon  his  atten 
tion,  until  he  had  finished  the  four  volumes. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Joseph  that  he  was  able  in  some 
degree  to  gratify  his  passion  for  reading  in  his  father's 
house.  Sir  William  Pepperell,  as  mentioned  above,  had 
left  his  library  as  a  legacy  to  his  grandfather  Stevens. 
Dr.  Stevens,  at  his  death,  bequeathed  it  for  the  use  of 
the  ministers  of  York  and  Kittery,  but  with  directions 
that  it  should  remain  in  possession  of  his  son-in-law 
during  his  life,  and  then  be  for  the  perpetual  use  of  the 
above-mentioned  ministers.  There  were  some  hundreds 
of  volumes.  Among  them  were  many  valuable  books, 
—  Rapin's  History  of  England  in  folio,  with  plates,  a 
large  collection  of  voyages  and  travels,  the  English  clas 
sics,  etc.,  etc. 


PREPARATION  OF  JOSEPH  FOR  COLLEGE.        81 

1796.  At  the  Commencement  at  Cambridge,  in 
Aged  12.  1796j  joseph  had  passed  his  twelfth  birthday, 
and  was  wholly  prepared  to  enter  college  ;  but  his  father 
trembled  to  send  him  there  while  so  young,  and  deter 
mined  to  hold  him  back  a  year,  and  then  offer  him  in  ad 
vance  for  the  Sophomore  class.  At  this  time  New  Haven, 
endeared  by  old  associations,  by  the  long  residence  and 
the  warm  attachment  of  his  father,  was  fixed  upon  as  the 
college  at  which  the  son  must  receive  his  education  ; 
and  the  great  distance  from  Portsmouth  increased  the 
father's  anxiety,  and  added  its  weight  to  the  motives  for 
keeping  him  back  a  year.  In  the  mean  time,  the  re 
spective  advantages  presented  by  the  two  colleges  were 
considerations  of  anxious  solicitude  and  the  subject  of 
frequent  debate.  The  father's  fears  of  the  influence  of 
the  liberal  views  of  religion  already  suspected  at  Cam 
bridge  are  expressed  in  more  than  one  letter.  That  the 
son's  inclination  was  decidedly  directed  towards  Har 
vard,  appears  from  a  letter  written  to  a  classmate  who 
had  left  Exeter  this  year  to  enter  that  college.  The 
letter  is  in  a  round,  school-boy's  hand,  a  close  imitation 
of  the  copperplate  copies  for  penmanship. 

"  Exeter,  Dec.,  1796. 

"DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  cannot  let  slip  this  favorable  oppor 
tunity  of  writing  to  you,  although  I  have  so  lately  enjoyed 
the  pleasure  of  your  company.  I  will  now  endeavour  to 
avoid  the  charge  of  not  performing  my  part  of  the  corre 
spondence.  Did  you  arrive  safe  at  Cambridge  ?  I  should 
be  sorry  to  hear  that  the  surprising  activity  of  your  Canta 
brigian  nag  failed  him  in  performing  the  journey. 

"  I  fear,  my  friend,  I  shall  be  deprived  of  the  happiness 
of  residing  at  the  same  university  with  yourself.  The  pleas 
ure  which  I  should  enjoy  in  your  company  often  rises  to 


82        PREPARATION  OF  JOSEPH  FOR  COLLEGE. 

my  view.  I  have  remonstrated  with  my  papa,  but  he 
thinks  I  shall  enjoy  greater  advantages  at  the  college  for 
which  he  designs  me.  All  men  are  influenced  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree  by  prejudice,  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  you 
were  to  think  he  had  an  uncommonly  great  share  of  it. 
But  of  this  I  will  not  pretend  to  be  a  judge. 

"  My  loss,  occasioned  by  separation  from  you,  has   not 
yet  been  compensated.     May  you  be  always  happy ! 
"  Affectionately  yours, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

That  Joseph's  remonstrance  did  not  amount  to  a  very 
earnest  opposition  appears  by  a  letter  of  the  father, 
written  ten  days  after  this  of  the  son  to  his  young  friend, 
in  which  he  says  to  Joseph,  —  "  Your  last  letter  to  me 
is  a  very  laconic  exhibition  of  your  feelings,  which  seem 
to  be  keen  enough,  respecting  your  going  to  New 
Haven." 

In  conformity  to  the  strict  obedience  in  which  chil 
dren  were  educated  at  that  time,  especially  the  un 
questioning,  unremonstrating  subjection  with  which  in 
our  own  family  we  were  girt  round  and  environed,  prob 
ably  no  other  word  ever  escaped  the  lips  of  the  son, 
and  I  am  unacquainted  with  the  motives  which  at  last 
determined  his  father  to  send  him  to  Cambridge.  En 
dowed  as  the  son  was  with  a  joyous  disposition  and  a 
serene  temper,  he  probably  would  have  gone  with  the 
utmost  cheerfulness  to  New  Haven.  His  delight  is 
warmly  expressed  in  another  letter  to  the  same  friend, 
because  he  is  not  to  be  separated  from  the  friendships 
he  had  formed  at  Exeter,  but  would  enter  with  some 
of  his  fellow-students  at  Cambridge  at  the  next  Com 
mencement. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

JOSEPH    ENTERS    COLLEGE.  HIS  CHARACTER   AS    A    STUDENT. 

LETTERS    FROM    HIS    FATHER. 

1797.  AT  the  Commencement  of  1797,  Joseph  was 

Aged  13.  admitted,  one  year  in  advance,  to  Harvard  Uni 
versity.  Upon  which  occasion  the  father's  letters  are 
again  introduced. 

«  Portsmouth,  Aug.  10th,  1797. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  hope  by  this  time  you  begin  to  feel 
yourself  a  little  familiarized  to  college  and  its  customs,  and 
that  many  of  the  things  about  which  you  were  anxious  cease 
to  be  subjects  of  anxiety.  I  left  you  rather  abruptly,  and  I 
suppose,  to  you,  unexpectedly,  but  I  feared  you  would  be 
more  affected  by  a  formal  parting  than  by  finding  me  gone 
without  it. 

"  You  are  now  placed  in  a  situation,  my  son,  in  which 
you  must  exercise  care  for  yourself  and  the  things  you 
have  with  you,  without  depending  upon  others.  You  have 
hitherto  boarded  in  a  family  where  you  have  had  kind 
female  care ;  you  must  now  take  that  care  yourself.  Keep 
every  thing  in  order ;  your  clothes  in  their  place,  your 
books  in  their  place,  and  be  not  in  so  much  of  a  hurry 
as  to  leave  them  in  confusion  and  disorder.  Lock  your 
trunk  and  your  study,  when  you  go  out.  Make  a  little 
paper  book  and  put  down  all  your  expenses.  You  must 
bear  half  the  expenses  of  the  room,  such  as  candles,  etc. 
I  suppose  it  will  be  customary  to  have  some  wine  in  your 


84  LETTERS  WHILE  IN  COLLEGE. 

room,  to  offer  to  strangers.  I  hope  it  is  not  the  custom  to 
offer  scholars  or  classmates  wine  when  they  call ;  but  when 
a  gentleman  or  friend  from  out  of  town  calls,  it  will  be 
necessary.  You  appear  to  have  a  prudent,  worthy,  and  man 
ly  chum ;  who  will,  I  hope,  not  impose  upon  your  youth,  but 
guide  and  direct  you ;  cherish  confidence  in  him  if  you 
find  him  deserving,  and  avoid  the  beginning  of  any  preju 
dice  or  dissension.  I  would  not  have  you  mean,  nor  pro 
fuse;  but  entirely  just  in  your  part  of  the  expenses. 

"  Do  not  be  imposed  upon.  Carry  little  money  about 
with  you.*  Always  remember  to  wash  in  the  morning, 
oftener  if  need  be.  Comb  your  hair  every  day.  Endeav 
our  to  keep  your  clothes  neat  and  tidy.  When  your  clothes 
are  returned  from  the  wash,  put  them  smoothly  in  your 
trunk  and  make  a  memorandum  of  them. 

"  With  respect  to  study,  you  will  in  the  first  place  make 
yourself  a  thorough  master  of  your  recitations,  and  of  the 
lessons  assigned  you.  The  time  that  you  do  not  want  for 
your  recitations,  this  year,  devote  to  Hebrew  and  French. 
Mr.  Pearson  is  a  good  man,  notwithstanding  the  prejudices 
against  him,  and  will  be  glad  to  see  you  often,  and  to  give 
you  any  assistance  you  may  want.  Do  not  be  absent  from 
prayers  or  recitations  for  trifling  causes.  Never  join  in 
any  disorders  that  idle  youths  may  commence.  Study  to 
deserve  the  esteem  and  respect  of  the  deserving  part  of 
college.  Never  be  out  late  at  night  and  spend  not  much 
time  in  playing  on  the  flute.  Do  not  play  in  study-hours, 
and  play-hours  will  be  better  used  in  exercise,  vigorous 
exercise,  —  walking  and  playing  ball.  Call  frequently  upon 
the  Professors  and  go  very  often  to  see  your  dear  mother's 
friend,  Mrs.  Dana. 

"  Remember  the  advantages  of  the  Sabbath  when  prop- 


*  This  advice  seems  almost  superfluous,  as  I  suppose  the  boy  never 
had  more  than  five  dollars  at  one  time. 


LETTERS    WHILE    IN    COLLEGE.  85 

erly  used.  If  your  eyes  do  not  fail,  it  will  be  a  good  habit 
to  read  the  Bible  in  Greek,  especially  the  New  Testament, 
on  the  Sabbath. 

"  I  have  been  thus  particular  because  you  have  never 
been  so  alone  and  I  think  my  counsels  may  be  of  service 
to  you.  I  place  confidence  in  you,  my  son,  and  hope  as 
you  have  begun  you  will  go  on  to  perfection,  and  not  disap 
point  the  hopes  and  expectations  of  your  friends. 

"  I  have  received  the  letter  you  wrote  the  day  I  left  you. 
I  do  not  recollect  any  thing  to  add,  except  to  repeat  the 
advice,  and  beg  you  to  be  a  man.  Command  your  feelings 
and  don't  cry  at  corrections  that  may  be  suggested  to  you 
at  recitations,  nor  act  as  though  unwilling  to  receive  advice." 

It  must  be  recollected  that  the  boy  is  only  thirteen 
years  old,  when  his  father  advises  him  not  to  cry  at  being 
corrected.  The  quick  sensibility  that  in  boyhood  showed 
itself  in  involuntary  tears  was  never  wholly  conquered  ; 
when  not  exhibited  by  tears,  it  often  subjected  him  to 
unkind  remarks  from  older  and  more  self-possessed 
characters. 

A  week  only  passed,  and  the  counsels  and  advice  were 
reiterated. 

"  August  30th,  1797. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  received  your  letter  by  Monday's 
mail  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  and  hope  before  this 
you  have  received  one  from  me  that  was  written  imme 
diately  after  my  return  home,  containing  a  great  variety 
of  directions  upon  matters  that  to  you  may  appear  small, 
but  their  influence  is  great;  and  you  must  be  willing  to 
have  line  upon  line  and  precept  upon  precept ;  receive  them 
with  the  docility  of  a  dutiful  child  from  an  affectionate 
and  solicitous  parent.  You  have  no  one  to  take  care  of 
you  but  yourself.  Let  me  have  confidence  in  you,  that  you 
8 


86  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

will  keep  yourself  out  of  danger  and  temptation  and  your 
study  and  appendages  free  from  confusion.  Keep  your 
person  and  clothes  in  order  and  clean ;  put  every  thing 
iri  its  place  and  have  a  place  for  every  thing.  I  am  sorry 
you  had  to  lay  out  so  much  for  books  ;  for  I  hoped  the 
money  I  left  with  you  would  do  something  towards  de 
fraying  necessary  bills  that  might  arise.  However,  you  are 
not  to  be  stingy  of  necessary  expenses,  though  your  father 
is  a  poor  man.  Pay  your  full  share ;  only  be  careful  of 
your  money  and  keep  an  exact  account. 

"  Do  not  forget  regular,  manly  exercise.  I  am  glad  to 
find  you  are  attempting  both  Hebrew  and  French.  You 
will  overtake  your  class  in  a  very  little  time,  for  you  learn 
languages  easily.  If  you  do  not  get  some  knowledge  of 
Hebrew  now,  it  is  not  probable  you  will  ever  attain  it ;  and 
if  your  heart  should  be  devoted  to  the  profession,  which, 
though  not  highly  esteemed  by  men,  is  yet  the  most  benevo 
lent  and  honorable,  you  may  find  it  of  great  advantage  to 
you. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  pleased  with  your  chum. 
I  believe  him  to  be  a  deserving  young  fellow  ;  but  you  must 
not  have  too  sudden  or  unbounded  confidence  in  any  one. 
Form  rules  and  principles  for  yourself  that  may  be  sup 
ported  by  reason  and  revelation,  and  do  not  depart  from 
them  through  fear  of  ridicule  nor  hope  of  obtaining  favor 
from  any  one.  Keep  yourself  pure.  Treat  all  your  fellow- 
students  with  respect  and  friendship,  but  do  not  feel  as  if 
your  happiness  depended  upon  the  favor  of  any  oner  nor 
your  misery  upon  any  thing  but  the  reproaches  of  con 
science.  Always  treat  the  government  with  respect  and 
attention.  Never  imbibe  prejudices  against  any  of  them, 
nor  join  in  any  cabals  against  them.  Never  be  an  informer, 
but  be  equally  careful  not  to  be  a  supporter  or  encourager 
of  any  designs  against  the  governors  or  governed. 

"  Take  care  of  yourself,  my  dear  son,  and  be  a  good 
boy." 


TO    HIS    SON    WHILE    IN    COLLEGE.  87 

"September  10th,  1797. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  The  receipt  of  your  letter  by  Mon 
day's  post  gave  us  all  pleasure,  as  it  indicated  your  greater 
ease  and  enjoyment  in  your  present  situation.  You  are, 
I  am  sensible,  the  youngest  boy  in  your  class,  but  you  must 
remember  that  you  have  enjoyed  great  advantages,  and  that 
wisdom  is  not  measured  by  years,  but  by  the  opportunities 
we  have  had  of  acquiring  it ;  yet  the  recollection  of  your 
youth  should  make  you  modest  and  willing  to  bear  the 
repetition  of  my  advice  :  yet  I  hope  it  will  be  needless ; 
as  you  will  form  yourself  to  careful  habits,  and  will  some 
times  refresh  your  memory  by  perusing  the  letters  I  have 
sent  you. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  find  it  difficult  to  pursue  the  study  of 
both  Hebrew  and  French,  and  conclude  you  intend  to  re 
linquish  one  of  them.  To  direct  your  determination,  let 
me  suggest  to  you  that  this  will  probably  be  the  only  time 
you  will  have  to  acquire  any  knowledge  of  Hebrew,  which 
is  of  some  importance  if  you  should  choose  one  of  the 
professions  for  life ;  you  may  have  another  opportunity  to 
get  a  knowledge  of  French  ;  besides,  they  are  steady  lads 
who  apply  themselves  to  Hebrew,  and  I  did  wish  you  to 
associate  and  assimilate  with  such.  Take  these  things  into 
consideration,  my  son,  and  then  judge  which  language  to 
relinquish'  if  you  relinquish  either. 

"  If  you  knew  how  much  we  feel  interested  in  you  and 
your  welfare,  you  would  never  be  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to 
write  to  us.  The  most  trifling  circumstances,  such  as  going 
to  bed,  and  getting  up  in  the  morning,  washing  hands, 
combing  hair,  and  brushing  clothes,  derive  an  importance 
from  their  relation  to  those  we  love.  You  say  little  in  your 
letters  about  your  chum.  I  hope  you  live  together  in  har 
mony  and  love,  in  mutual  confidence  and  friendship,  and 
that  you  are  guardians  and  helpmeets  to  each  other  in  your 
collegiate  connection. 


88  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

"  How  do  you  succeed  in  getting  up  for  prayers  ?  If  pos 
sible,  avoid  being  frequently  upon  the  monitor's  bill.  Cher 
ish  a  respect  for  the  authorities  of  college,  whatever  you 
may  hear  said  about  them  by  idle  or  dissipated  youth. 
You  may  be  sure  they  are  men  of  respectability,  or  they 
would  never  have  been  in  the  places  they  are  ;  treat  them 
yourself  with  submission,  and  a  proper  respect,  due  as  much 
to  yourself  as  to  them.  Do  not  feel  an  unwillingness  to  be 
corrected  in  your  recitations,  nor  show  the  superficial  cox 
combry  that  is  said  to  belong  to  the  Sophomore  year.  Uo 
not  be  difficult  as  to  commons.  Take  care  of  yourself,  my 
dear  boy,  and  of  every  thing  that  relates  to  you. 
"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"J.  BUCKMINSTER." 

"  November,  1797. 

"•We  are  disappointed,  my  dear  son,  in  not  receiving  a 
line  from  you  to  let  us  know  how  you  succeeded  in  your 
return  to  Cambridge.  We  hope  well,  and  that  you  are 
again  settled  in  the  routine  of  study  and  recitation.  You 
must  not  be  grieved  nor  surprised  at  my  repeating  my 
cautions,  reiterating  my  counsels,  to  take  care  of  yourself, — 
of  your  health,  comforts,  and  morals.  You  may,  perhaps, 
be  more  in  danger  this  term  than  the  last.  You  are  more 
accustomed  to  college  life,  and  may  have  less  timidity  and 
more  confidence  in  yourself.  Form  to  yourself  general  rules 
and  principles  of  good  behaviour,  that  you  may  have  them 
to  govern  you  in  particular  cases  and  emergencies ;  and  be 
not  betrayed  by  unforeseen  events  into  faults  or  errors,  in 
consequence  of  not  thinking.  Let  the  virtuous  and  discreet 
be  your  chosen  companions,  and  if  you  are  constrained  to 
be  with  others,  let  a  manly  dignity  and  propriety  mark  your 
conduct  and  be  a  silent  reproof  of  theirs. 

"  If  you  must  at  times  hear  the  authorities  of  college  re 
viled  and  ridiculed,  take  no  part  in  the  ungrateful  merri- 


TO    HIS    SON    WHILE    IN    COLLEGE.  89 

ment ;  or  at  least,  do  nothing  to  add  to  the  piquancy  or 
amount  of  it.  Keep  yourself  pure,  my  son,  in  these  your 
years  at  college,  and  remember  that  God  is  the  inspector 
of  your  public  and  private  conduct  and  knows  your  most 
secret  thoughts  and  actions.  Resolve  not  upon  any  thing 
of  consequence,  without  making  it  the  subject  at  least  of  one 
night's  sleep,  and  one  evening's  prayer.  Govern  yourself, 
my  son,  by  principles,  and  attach  yourself  to  them  rather 
than  to  men.  Approve  what  is  excellent  in  all,  and  what 
is  otherwise  in  none. 

"  You  tell  us  you  spent  Thanksgiving  at  Waltham.  We 
thought  you  would,  and  are  glad  of  it.  When  gentlemen 
of  distinction  invite  you  to  their  houses,  I  hope  you  behave 
with  modesty  and  propriety,  —  that  you  are  not  forward  to 
speak  or  to  give  your  opinions  unasked.  Mr.  Lyman,  when 
he  was  here,  expressed  an  interest  in  you  and  wished  you 
to  visit  him  often.  I  am  willing  that  you  should  walk  up 
to  Waltham  some  Saturday  afternoon,  and  return  to  Cam 
bridge  Monday  morning.  Follow  the  maternal  advice  of 
Mrs.  L.  You  are  young,  my  dear  son,  too  young  to  be  at 
your  own  disposal,  placed  at  a  distance  from  your  natural 
guardians,  from  the  friends  that  are  most  sincerely  and 
tenderly  interested  in  your  prosperity  and  welfare ;  you 
are  exposed  to  temptations,  and  may  be  surrounded  by 
those  that  seek  to  ensnare  rather  than  to  guard  and  guide 
you ;  and  though  we  have  confidence  in  you,  that  we  trust 
will  never  be  disappointed,  we  cannot  but  be  jealous  over 
you  and  anxious  for  you.  Remember,  my  son,  you  are 
passing  through  a  very  critical  period  of  life.  Cherish  the 
fear  of  God,  and  commit  yourself  daily  to  his  care  and 
keeping.  Respect  yourself.  Do  nothing  in  secret  or  in 
company  that  will  make  you  ashamed  of  yourself.  Be 
governed  by  principle,  and  not  by  caprice.  Dare  to  stand 
by,  and  do,  and  say  that  which  is  right,  though  you  should 
stand  alone ;  and  if  sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou  not ; 
8* 


90  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

if  they  ridicule  you,  bear  their  ridicule  manfully,  covered 
in  your  conscious  integrity ;  thus  you  will  have  peace  of 
mind,  the  approbation  of  the  wise  and  good,  protection  from 
above,  —  and  the  love  of  your  affectionate  father, 

"  J.    BUCKMINSTER." 

"June  16th,  1798. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON, I  believe  I  said  nothing  to 

you  in  my  last  letter  upon  the  subject  of  your  giving  up 
mathematics.  I  would  not  by  any  means  have  you  do  so. 
Study  those  and  all  other  recitations  as  well  as  you  can, 
and  if  you  cannot  distinguish  yourself,  yet  something  will 
remain  that  will  be  of  advantage  to  you  in  your  future  life  : 
besides,  you  must  not  imagine  that  you  cannot  distinguish 
yourself.  You  have  been  apt  to  think  so  in  all  the  new 
studies  that  you  have  undertaken,  and  the  very  thought 
has  a  tendency  to  cramp  your  exertions  and  paralyze  your 
efforts.  A  scholar  or  a  soldier  should  think  nothing  be 
yond  his  reach,  till  he  has  made  the  most  vigorous  attacks. 
I  hope  you  will  not  get  into  a  discouraged  frame  of  mind 
about  your  studies,  nor  from  that,  or  any  other  cause,  grow 
negligent  about  them. 

"  I  feel  anxious  for  you,  my  son,  and  would  do  every 
thing  in  my  power  for  your  good.  If  you  should  deviate 
from  the  paths  of  virtue,  and  become  an  immoral  youth, 
you  would  hasten  my  gray  hairs,  and  bring  them  down 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  I  beg  you  would  cherish  the 
fear  of  God,  and  a  sense  of  your  accountableness  to  him, 
and  forget  not  to  pray  to  him  daily.  You  must  not  follow 
the  great  or  the  many  to  do  evil,  nor  take  your  estimate 
of  things  from  the  practices  of  men,  but  from  the  unerring 
rule  of  God's  word.  May  God  bless  you,  my  son,  and 
sanctify  you.  May  he  keep  you  from  the  snares  of  youth, 
and  the  lusts  that  war  against  the  soul.  Be  no  stranger  to 


TO    HIS    SON    WHILE    IN    COLLEGE.  91 

your  closet,  but  with  filial  love   and  trust  commend  your 
self  to  God,  for  his  guidance  and  blessing. 
"Your  affectionate  father, 

"  J.    BUCKMINSTER." 

From  the  foregoing  letters  it  would  appear  that  the 
father  was  not  aware  of  the  most  serious  dangers  that 
menaced  his  son  in  his  college  life,  which,  from  some 
disclosures  lately  made,  arose  from  the  skepticism  then 
prevailing  in  the  college,  —  from  the  unsettling  of  the  faith 
of  every  rank  in  society,  through  the  prevalence  of  the 
influences  of  the  French  Revolution.  The  old  founda 
tions  of  society  were  shaken,  all  reverence  for  antiquity 
and  for  social  order  and  religious  faith  nearly  destroyed. 

Whoever  has  read  Judge  Story's  graphic  description 
of  the  college,  and  of  the  student's  life  there,  in  the  re 
cently  published  Memoirs  of  Dr.  Channing,  will  be 
aware  of  the  influences  that  surrounded  this  youngest 
son  of  Jllma  Mater.  Joseph  was  just  four  years  younger 
than  Dr.  Channing,  and  two  years  after  him  in  college. 
He  was  even  smaller  and  more  youthful  in  his  appear 
ance  than  his  distinguished  relative,  and  all  the  influence 
that  he  could  have  acquired  must  have  been  purely  in 
tellectual.  He  entered  the  Sophomore  class,  and  was 
only  one  year  in  college  with  Channing,  and  was  prob 
ably  wholly  unknown  to  him  except  through  the  medium 
of  Washington  Allston,  the  friend  of  both  and  the  class 
mate  of  Channing. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  principal  college  clubs,  — 
the  Phi  Beta,  the  Hasty  Pudding,  and  the  Adelphi, 
before  which  last  he  delivered  an  address  in  his  Senior 
year,  "  Upon  the  Benefits  of  Diversity  in  Religious  Opin 
ions."  His  rank  as  a  scholar  will  be  indicated  to  those 


92  JOSEPH'S  RANK  IN  COLLEGE. 

who  are  acquainted  with  the  principles  by  which  college 
honors  are  awarded,  by  those  that  he  received.  At 
the  November  exhibition  of  the  Junior  year,  he  had 
part  in  a  forensic  assigned  him;  in  the  succeeding  June 
exhibition,  an  English  oration  ;  "  and  the  second  part 
in  rank,  but  the  first  in  interest,"  at  the  Commencement 
when  he  graduated. 

It  was  in  college  that  he  acquired  a  passionate  love 
of  Shakspeare,  and  it  was  during  the  winter  of  his 
Senior  year  that  Cook  was  performing  his  principal  char 
acters  at  the  Boston  Theatre.  Joseph  resisted  every 
allurement  of  youthful  pleasures,  but  he  could  not  deny 
himself  that  which  was  to  him  the  highest  intellectual 
treat.  He  walked  frequently  of  an  evening  into  Boston, 
went  to  the  theatre,  and  walked  out  again  at  midnight 
over  the  scarcely  completed  road  leading  to  West  Boston 
Bridge,  often  with  the  snow  and  mud  far  above  his  an 
cles.* 

He  was  not  so  entirely  cut  off  from  all  social  influ 
ences  while  in  college  as  is  the  case  with  youths  less 
fortunate  in  friends.  From  Mrs.  Dana,  the  relative  of 
his  mother,  and  her  family,  he  received  the  kindest  wel 
come  at  his  weekly  visit,  which  his  father  exacted  from 
him.  I  use  that  word  because,  to  the  diffidence  and 
bashfulness  of  boys  of  his  age,  social  visiting  is  always 
a  severe  trial.  And  to  the  kindness  and  condescension 
of  that  excellent  family  he  was  indebted  for  a  cordial  wel 
come,  that  removed  the  barriers  between  youth  and  age, 
and  made  his  intercourse  with  them  easy  and  delightful. 

His  father  also  required  him,  once  in  each  term,  to  call 


*  It  should  be  observed,  that  the  law  requiring  the  undergraduates 
to  abstain  from  theatrical  amusements  was  not  then  in  operation. 


LETTERS    OF    HIS    FATHER.-  93 

upon  the  several  college  professors,  Pearson,  Tappan, 
and  Webber.  These  visits,  although,  from  obedience 
to  his  father,  punctually  paid,  appear  from  Joseph's 
letters  to  have  been  regarded  with  great  repugnance. 

The  son  had  now  entered  upon  his  second  year  at 
Cambridge,  and  the  letters  are  much  less  minute  in  their 
advice.  He  seems  to  have  obtained  the  entire  confi 
dence  of  his  father.  The  only  difficulty  was  that  of 
meeting  the  expenses  of  a  college  life.  The  frugal  boy 
is  still  obliged  to  walk  a  part  of  the  way  to  meet  the 
stage  on  his  journeys  to  and  from  Cambridge,  and  every 
letter  contains  advice  to  save  and  take  care  of  his  clothes. 

1798.  "I  send  you  inclosed  a  three-dollar  bill,  which 
I  hope,  with  what  money  you  have,  will  be  sufficient  to  pay 
alt  necessary  expenses  till  you  get  home.  Your  dress  will 
do  well  enough  for  exhibition.  I  hope  you  will  command 
attention  by  something  better  at  that  time  than  your  dress. 

"  There  are  many  clubs  plausible  in  their  institution,  that 
are  prejudicial  in  their  operation  and  consequences.  I  know 
not  of  what  kind  those  are  of  which  you  are  a  member, 
but  I  know  no  club  which  ought  at  college  to  be  very  ex 
pensive  to  the  members,  nor  can  they  be  beneficial  if  they 
are  so,  for  they  must  exclude  the  poor  scholars,  who  are 
usually  the  best." 

"  March  13th,  1799. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  have  been  much  more  remiss  in 
writing  to  you  this  term  than  I  intended  or  approve  ;  it  is 
not  that  I  am  less  anxious  or  concerned  about  you  than 
I  used  to  be,  nor  that  I  love  you  less ;  but  being  immersed 
in  various  cares  and  attentions  besides  that  of  my  ministry, 
I  can  hardly  find  time  for  writing.  I  hope  you  continue 
to  behave  well,  preserving  yourself  free  from  all  those  prac- 


94  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

tices  which  offend  God  and  wound  the  conscience  of  the 
unhardened  sinner.  It  is  my  heart's  desire  and  prayer  to 
God  for  you  that  you  may  be  saved,  and  in  order  to  this, 
that  you  may  be  made  to  see  your  need  of  salvation,  and 
behold  Jesus  Christ  as  the  author  of  it,  committing  your 
self  into  his  hands  to  be  sanctified  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  You  are  entering  upon 
the  stage  of  life,  not  merely  in  days  of  great  license  of  prac 
tice,  but  in  great  prevalence  of  infidelity.  To  despise  and 
reject  revelation,  not  so  much  by  attempting  to  disprove  it 
by  argument  as  to  drive  it  away  by  wit  and  ridicule,  is  now 
the  fashion,  and  you  will  meet  with  many  men  of  this 
stamp  in  your  literary  and  social  interviews  with  those 
who  may  be  such  fools  as  to  wish  there  were  no  God.  But 
though  you  may  not  feel  able  or  willing  to  oppose  their 
raillery,  I  pray  you  to  clasp  firmer  the  hope  of  sinners 
in  Jesus  Christ.  You  have  known  the  Scriptures  from  your 
youth ;  I  hope  you  have  sometimes  felt  their  power  to  assist 
and  comfort. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  give  you  in  letters  the  evidences  of  a 
revelation  ;  but  no  tolerable  account  can  be  given  for  the 
origin  and  existence  of  such  books  as  the  Gospels  but  their 
being  the  communication  of  Jesus  Christ  to  men,  and  a  still 
less  tolerable  one  can  be  given  of  the  present  existence  of 
the  Christian  Church  in  the  world.  Hold  fast  your  integri 
ty  and  your  love  of  God,  and  believe  that  they  who  honor 
him  he  will  honor,  and  they  who  despise  him  he  will  lightly 
esteem. 

"  The  name  of  your  new  little  sister  is  Olivia.  You  ask 
to  spend  next  vacation  at  Mr.  Freeman's.  If  your  clothes 
did  not  render  it  necessary  for  you  to  come  home,  I  should 
be  willing  you  should  spend  one  week  at  Judge  Dana's,  and 
one  week  at  Mr.  Freeman's;  but  we  shall  be  glad  to  see  you 
at  home. 

"  Your  affectionate  father." 


TO    HIS    SON    WHILE    IN    COLLEGE.  95 

"  May,  1799. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON.  —  Your  letter  and  its  contents  came 
safe  to  hand  by  Friday  night's  mail,  from  which  I  conclude 
you  got  safely  and  agreeably  to  Cambridge,  and  found  all 
things  well.  You  seem  to  be  concerned  for  my  health, 
and  inquire  anxiously  about  my  sufferings  from  the  disease 
with  which  I  was  threatened  when  you  left  home.  I  write 
sooner  than  I  otherwise  should,  because  I  can  tell  you  that, 
after  a  week  of  considerable  pain,  I  am  now  pretty  well, 
and  have  gone  through  the  labors  of  this  blessed  day  with 
less  fatigue  than  usual.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  anxious  for 
your  friends,  and  to  enter  with  feeling  into  their  circum 
stances,  and  I  hope  you  will  cherish  and  cultivate  a  filial 
and  fraternal  spirit  more  and  more.  You  have  parents  that 
love  you  and  are  deeply  concerned  for  you,  and  you  have 
sisters  that  love  you,  and  are  deserving  of  your  love ;  and 
though,  from  Providential  circumstances,  you  have  run  far 
ther  before  them  in  the  race  of  knowledge  than  you  have 
of  years,  yet  you  should  cherish  an  esteem  and  affection 
for  them,  and  do  what  in  you  lies  to  make  them  feel  the 
distance  less,  and  love  the  brother  more.  It  is  good  and 
pleasantv  for  brethren  and  sisters  to  dwell  together  in  unity, 
and  to  be  strangers  to  the  passions  of  envy  or  contempt, 
or  the  emotions  that  border  on  such  passions.  An  elder 
brother  distinguished  by  advantages  should  be  a  mentor 
to  the  little  circle  of  home,  and  bear  and  cover  the  weak 
ness  and  infirmities  of  those  who  are  accidentally  less  in 
formed  than  he. 

41  I  do  not  say  these  things,  my  son,  from  an  apprehension 
of  any  especial  need  of  such  caution  in  your  case  with  re 
spect  to  your  dear  sisters,  much  less  to  criminate  or  reproach, 
but  they  are  thoughts  that  may  deserve  your  consideration 
and  render  you  more  useful  and  happy. 

"  I  have  suggested  that  I  was  pleased  at  your  anxiety 
for  my  health,  and  desire  to  do  every  thing  to  contribute  to 


96  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER. 

my  relief;  but  you  must  remember  tbat,  however  dear  or 
necessary  I  may  be  to  my  children,  I  am  mortal.  Lean 
upon  no  parent's  arm  that  must  be  confined  to  Portsmouth 
while  you  are  at  Cambridge,  or  who,  however  warm  his 
affection  and  ardent  his  wishes,  is  weak,  erring,  and  mortal. 
Put  your  trust  in  God,  who  is  unchangeably  the  same,  every 
where  present,  and  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly  for  us. 
The  revelation  of  his  will,  and  our  duty,  is  supported  by 
evidence  that  has  proved  satisfactory  to  some  of  the  great 
est  and  the  wisest  of  our  race,  who  were  accustomed  not 
to  believe  without  evidence.  Let  me  exhort  you,  my  dear 
son,  to  make  this  revelation  your  counsellor,  and  you  will 
find  it  a  light  to  your  feet  and  a  lamp  to  your  path. 

"  From  some  remarks  you  made  while  you  were  at  home, 
and  the  interest  they  had  in  your  feelings,  I  feared  you 
were  in  danger  of  the  fashionable  folly  of  placing  rea 
son  before  revelation.  Be  on  your  guard,  my  son,  and  let 
a  thus  saitli  the  Lord,  or  a  plain  Scripture  declaration, 
silence  your  objections  and  satisfy  the  craving  of  your 
mind,  —  and 

'  Where  you  can't  unriddle,  learn  to  trust.' 

"  Take  care  of  your  clothes,  your  health,  your  morals, 
your  soul ! 

"  Your  affectionate  father." 

The  caution  to  his  son  in  his  last  letter,  not  to  despise 
the  ignorance  of  his  sisters,  would  have  been  necessary 
to  a  brother  less  considerate  and  affectionate  ;  for  how 
ever  devoted  Dr.  Buckminster  was  to  the  best  interests 
of  all  his  children,  he  certainly  cherished  the  Old  Tes 
tament  or  Hebrew  ideas  of  the  greater  importance  of  the 
culture  of  the  male  than  the  female  intellect,  which  was 
the  prevailing  sentiment  of  Puritan  New  England.  Every 
faculty  of  the  sons  of  clergymen  must  be  cultivated,  for 


PURITAN    IDEAS    OF    FEMALE    EDUCATION.  97 

they,  perhaps,  would  be  shining  lights  in  the  candlestick 
of  the  Church  ;  but  the  daughters,  they  were  only  helps, 
meet  for  man.  The  whole  amount  of  a  woman's  learn 
ing  was  but  enough  to  enable  her  to  read  and  spell  the 
English  language,  and  to  keep  the  family  accounts. 
Reading  was  taught  well  to  every  one  of  his  family  by 
the  practice  of  reading  the  Bible  morning  and  evening 
at  family  prayers,  each  person,  beginning  with  himself, 
reading  two  verses  in  succession.  The  servants  were  not 
exempted  from  this  custom,  and  every  boy  and  girl  ad 
mitted  to  service  in  the  family  learned,  at  least,  the  art 
of  reading  well. 

From  the  prevailing  notions  which  preceded  and 
reached  almost  to  the  time  of  which  I  write,  the  female 
mind  of  New  England  was  left  almost  wholly  without 
culture.  The  daughters  of  clergymen  had  some  little 
chance  of  intellectual  improvement,  by  living  more  in 
the  presence  of  books,  and  having  occasional  inter 
course  with  the  learned  of  the  lime  ;  but  that  only  in 
creased  the  embarrassing  peculiarity  of  their  position. 
A  country  minister  stands  upon  almost  the  lowest  step 
of  social  life,  in  regard  to  the  pecuniary  means  of  in 
tellectual  culture  ;  but  in  intellectual  endowment,  cul 
tivated  manners,  and  social  influences,  he  must  stand 
with  the  highest,  and  hold  intercourse  with  the  most 
cultivated.  His  family  must  share  his  position,  what 
ever  it  is,  and  his  daughters  must  form  tastes  for  refine 
ment,  for  intellectual  intercourse,  and  for  cultivated  so 
ciety,  which  the  total  want  of  pecuniary  means  pre 
vents  them  afterwards,  as  our  society  is  constituted, 
from  enjoying.  And  only  in  peculiar  and  fortunate 
cases  are  they  able  to  indulge  the  tastes  they  have  too 
early  formed. 

9 


98  PURITAN    IDEAS    OF    FEMALE    EDUCATION. 

The  wholly  secluded  education  that  Dr.  Buckminster 
gave  his  daughters  might  have  arisen  from  such  consid 
erations.  Although  he  was  active  and  instrumental  in 
establishing  better  schools  for  girls  in  Portsmouth,  he 
did  not  allow  his  daughters  to  go  to  them,  nor  to  asso 
ciate  much  with  society  of  their  own  age.  Perhaps 
some  lingering  fondness  for  the  kind  of  education  their 
mother  had  enjoyed  remained  in  his  mind,  and  he  might 
have  hoped  to  reproduce  a  likeness  to  her  in  his 
daughters.  But  the  cloistered  retirement  of  her  chil 
dren  was  not  peaceful,  like  hers.  However  nun-like 
their  seclusion,  it  was  not  for  the  purpose  of  reading  or 
praying  ;  it  was  filled  with  domestic  duties  and  the  care 
of  younger  children.  Book-learning  was  the  last  neces 
sity  ;  they  had  far  other  and  humbler  duties  to  learn, 
and  to  perform.  With  an  invalid  wife  and  a  small 
salary,  the  moments  for  indulging  a  studious  taste  in  his 
daughters  were  few  and  far  between,  and  for  the  most 
part  stolen.  Such  a  family  was  indeed  a  school  for 
learning  the  humble  and  passive  virtues.  Patience,  in 
dustry,  and  carefulness  were  all  taught,  but  a  knowledge 
of  the  world  wholly  excluded.  Happy  was  it  for  him 
that  they  learned  contentment  in  their  frugal,  stoical 
home,  when,  only  a  few  years  after,  these  elder  daugh 
ters  were  left,  by  the  death  of  his  wife,  the  guardians  of 
his  comfort,  and  the  mothers  of  his  younger  children. 
There  was  then  full  use  for  the  knowledge  that  could 
not  have  been  found  in  grammars  and  dictionaries  ; 
and  the  very  small  portion  of  elementary  instruction 
they  had  received  in  the  learning  usually  taught  in 
schools  served  only  to  stimulate  their  exertions,  in 
after  life,  to  acquire  what  had  been  denied  to  their 
younger  years. 


LETTERS  WHILE  IN  COLLEGE.  99 

Joseph  had  now  entered  upon  his  Senior  year,  and  his 
father  had  acquired  so  much  confidence  in  him,  that  his 
letters  had  become  much  less  frequent. 

"July,  1799. 

"  From  what  cause  it  arises  I  cannot  say,  but  I  have 
never  been  so  concerned  about  you,  my  dear  son,  since 
you  went  from  home,  as  I  have  this  term  of  your  ab 
sence.  Scarce  a  night  passes  but  I  am  perplexed  and 
troubled  in  my  sleep  by  some  of  the  troubles  and  diffi 
culties  in  which  you  are.  involved.  I  hope  it  is  not  an 
intimation  that  you  are  becoming  less  careful  and  regular 
in  your  conduct,  or  less  watchful  against  the  seductions 
of  the  world.  You  are  passing  through  a  period  of  life 
that  will  probably  give  the  complexion  to  the  whole  of 
your  future  life.  O  my  son,  be  watchful  and  prudent, 
preserving  an  ever-living  consciousness  of  the  Divine  om 
niscience  and  omnipresence.  I  hope  you  will  continue  to 
deserve  the  good  opinion  of  the  government  of  the  College, 
and  pay  them  all  due  respect.  I  know  they  are  the  friends 
of  the  Alumni,  and  you  will  one  day  think  so. 

"  You  propose  hiring  a  horse  sometimes  to  ride,  lest  you 
should  forget  your  riding.  I  would  observe  to  you,  that  it 
is  a  kind  of  knowledge  not  easily  forgotten,  and  you  cannot 
hire  a  horse  at  Cambridge  without  considerable  expense. 
If  you  ride  out  in  company,  you  will  be  in  danger  of  meet 
ing  with  accidents.  I  do  not  forbid  your  riding,  but  I  advise 
you  to  be  sparing  of  this  amusement.  I  hope  you  will 
continue  to  be  steady,  uniform,  and  studious,  and  improve 
the  little  remaining  time  you  may  have  at  Cambridge  in 
endeavouring  to  carry  yourself  forward  in  preparation  for 
usefulness  in  your  future  life.  Be  virtuous,  wise,  and  pure. 

"  I  fear  it  will  be  too  much  for  you  to  think  of  walking 
all  the  way  home.  If  you  will  come  to  Newbury,  and  if  I 
can  possibly  leave  home,  I  will  come  in  the  chaise  for  you  ; 


100  ANXIETY    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

but  you  must  let  me  hear  from  you  again  before  vacation. 
I  am  sorry  you  are  not  disposed  to  write  more  particularly 
to  your  best  friend. 

"  We  all  send  you  a  caution  not  to  be  too  venturesome 
because  you  have  a  little  knowledge  of  horsemanship. 
"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"J.  B." 

The  anxiety  of  Dr.  Buckminster  during  the  whole 
of  his  son's  course  through  college  was  so  extreme,  and 
his  charges  to  the  boy  to  keep  himself  pure  from  youth 
ful  vices  so  often  reiterated,  that  they  may,  to  some 
minds,  imply  a  more  than  usual  distrust  of  the  purity  and 
integrity  of  his  son.  It  can  be  explained  without  casting 
a  shadow  of  suspicion  upon  the  ingenuous  boy. 

It  may  be  recollected  that  it  was  observed,  in  the 
early  part  of  this  work,  that  Yale  College,  while  Dr. 
Buckminster  was  there,  was  particularly  open  to  the 
charge  of  indifference  to  religious  and  moral  observances  ; 
and  added  to  his  own  recollections  of  college  life  were 
fears  arising  from  the  tender  age  of  his  son,  and  the 
danger  of  his  being  influenced  by  the  example  of  the 
older  students.  It  was,  too,  the  habit  of  his  mind,  aris 
ing  probably  from  his  religious  creed  and  the  high  ideal 
standard  he  had  formed  for  them,  to  doubt  the  strength 
of  principle  of  his  own  children.  While  his  parental  ex 
pectations  demanded  every  thing  from  them,  his  religious 
creed  forbade  him  to  hope  for  any  thing  but  a  natural 
amiableness,  which,  in  the  view  of  his  creed,  was  of  no 
value.  The  writer  does  not  recollect  a  single  instance 
of  commendation  of  Joseph  or  of  his  elder  children.  He 
became  more  indulgent  as  he  advanced  in  life,  and  his 
younger  motherless  children  called  forth  all  his  tenderness. 

Joseph  had  now  entered  upon  his  last  term  ;  the  time 


RESPECTING    HIS    CHILDEEN.  101 

drew  nigh  when  he  must  leave  college,  and  his  father 
began  to  feel  anxiety  about  his  future  course.  He  had 
just  completed  his  sixteenth  year.  He  was  very  small 
and  youthful  in  his  appearance.  Schools  were  offered 
to  him  in  various  country  places,  but  his  youth  and  still 
more  youthful  stature  —  he  looked  scarcely  more  than 
twelve  —  made  his  father  unwilling  that  he  should  enter 
upon  school-keeping  as  the  head  and  sole  master.  The 
place  of  usher  to  Mr.  Hunt  in  the  Boston  Latin  School 
was  proposed  to  him,  by  friends  in  Boston,  as  an  eligible 
situation. 

"  June,  1800. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  have  this  day  received  your  letter, 
and  am  glad  you  were  disposed  to  enter  so  fully  into  your 
feelings  and  wishes,  to  your  best  friend.  Respecting  the 
principal  subject  of  your  letter,  the  disposal  of  yourself  after 
you  leave  college,  I  scarcely  know  what  to  write  to  you. 
There  are  many  things  in  the  situation  you  propose  that 
would  be  doubtless  agreeable,  if  you  could  be  placed  in  it, 
and  they  would  not  be  unprofitable  nor  dangerous  to  a 
person  of  more  years  and  experience,  of  established  prin 
ciples,  confirmed  habits,  and  pious  affections ;  —  such  as 
the  diversity  of  amusements,  the  variety  of  character  and 
company,  the  floods  of  books,  the  proximity  to  Cambridge, 
etc.,  etc.  But  I  feel  a  little  anxious  lest  they  should  be 
ensnaring  to  you,  and  a  means  of  blighting  the  seed  which  I 
hope  is  springing  up  to  a  respectable  harvest  in  your  future 
life.  The  theatre  has  infatuating  charms  to  a  lively  imagi 
nation  ;  the  company  of  the  dissipated,  both  male  and 
female,  is  seductive  to  those  who  have  not  closed  their  teens. 
You  have  four  years,  my  son,  before  that  period  arrives. 

"  If  you  should  ever  know  the  heart  of  a  parent,  you  will 
know  it  cannot  cease  to  fear.  Parents  are  ready  to  say,  '  We 
have  you  in  our  hearts  to  live  and  to  die  for  you,'  and  often 
9* 


102  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER. 

afterwards  strange  changes  take  place  in  the  feelings  and 
conduct  of  their  children. 

"  If  I  were  sure  you  would  have  virtue  and  firmness  to 
withstand  the  temptations  that  would  assail  you  in  Boston, 
and  prudence  and  piety  enough  to  choose  the  company  of 
the  wise,  and  wisdom  enough  to  improve  the  advantages 
you  would  find  there,  I  should  more  readily  consent  to  your 
being  there  than  anywhere  else.  Ask  the  opinion  of  judi 
cious  friends.  Converse  freely  and  independently  with  Mr. 
Lyman. 

u  The  part  assigned  to  you  at  Commencement  is,  I  con 
clude,  agreeable  to  you.  If  a  subject  is  not  given  to  you, 
you  must  endeavour  to  fix  upon  one  that  will  suit  your  taste 
and  years,  and  multum  in  parvo  must  be  your  study. 

"  We  all  love  you,  —  your  father  dearly. 

"J.  BUCKMINSTER." 

"  June  16,  1800. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON, Mr.  Abbot  says  it  would  be  very 

agreeable  to  him  to  have  you  with  him  in  the  Academy,  if 
there  should  be  an  opening  there.  I  do  not  altogether  like 
the  situation  in  the  Boston  school.  Mr.  Hunt  would  proba 
bly  often  be  absent,  and  the  government,  as  well  as  the  in 
struction,  fall  upon  the  usher.  The  salary  at  Boston  may 
sound  great,  but  the  expense  of  board  and  other  expenses  of 
living  would  leave  you  but  a  small  dividend  at  the  end  of  the 
year,  I  imagine.  You  had  better  lie  upon  your  oars,  and 
wait  for  the  opening  of  Providence,  than  to  be  precipitate. 
Behave  yourself  well,  and  you  will  find  employment.  I 
doubt  not  Providence  will  provide  kindly  and  generously  for 
you  if  you  wait  filially  upon  the  God  of  Providence. 

"It  is  a  little  unexpected  to  be  called  upon  for  money. 
I  fear  the  advantages  of  your  societies  will  not  pay  the  ex 
pense  of  meeting.  The  extra  expenses  of  your  family  ex 
ceed  mine.  I  inclose  five  dollars,  of  which,  and  all  others, 
I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  give  a  good  account. 


LETTER    OF    KEY.    DR.    LOWELL.  103 

"Let  your  last  weeks  at  College,  my  son,  be  your  best ; 
such  as  you  can  look  back  upon  in  future  with  unmixed 
satisfaction. 

"  Your  affectionate  father." 

Joseph's  course  through  college  had  been  marked 
with  extreme  industry,  and  the  most  careful  regard  to 
the  regulations  and  laws  of  the  place.  Of  this  it  may  be 
sufficient  to  remark,  that  be  never  incurred  any  college 
censure,  and  was  not  even  fined  till  the  last  term  of  the 
Senior  year.  He  preserved  his  themes  and  exercises, 
in  number  thirty-two.  Many  of  them  are  humorous,  a 
few  poetical  ;  but  the  marked  progress  in  excellence 
from  the  first  to  the  last  is  very  striking,  showing  how 
much  he  was  indebted  to  careful  culture. 

I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  add  to  this  account  of  his 
college  life  the  testimony  of  a  valued  friend  and  class 
mate,  the  Rev.  Charles  Lowell,  one  among  the  very 
small  number  of  that  class  who  have  survived  to  the 
present  time. 

"  I  first  saw  Mr.  Buckminster  in  the  summer  of  1797, 
when  we  were  examined  together,  with  three  others,  for  ad 
mission  to  the  Sophomore  class  of  Harvard  College.  He 
was  then  but  a  little  more  than  thirteen  years  old  ;  a  boy, 
with  a  sweet  countenance,  whose  every  lineament  was 
stamped  with  genius  and  intelligence,  —  in  age  a  boy,  but  in 
intellect  and  learning  mature  far  beyond  his  years.  I  was 
myself  but  little  older,  yet  I  well  remember  his  examina 
tion,  and,  as  well,  that  none  excelled  him.  One  incident  that 
I  have  not  forgotten,  though  it  is  nearly  half  a  century  since, 
indicated  the  keenness  of  his  sensibility,  and  the  laudable 
ambition  to  excel  which  never  left  him.  He  had  some  hesi 
tation  in  answering  one  of  the  questions  propounded  to  him, 


104  LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    LOWELL. 

—  I  feel  assured  it  was  but  one, — and  he  burst  into  tears. 
One  of  the  professors  —  it  was  Dr.  Pearson  —  kindly  came 
to  him,  reassured  him,  and  told  him  he  had  no  cause  to  be 
troubled. 

"  Thus  commencing  his  college  course  standing  in  the 
first  rank,  he  sustained  that  rank  unwaveringly  to  the  end. 
As  a  classical  scholar  he  had  no  superior,  if,  indeed,  he  had 
a  rival.  As  a  belles-lettres  scholar  he  was  unequalled. 
4  In  rhetoric  and  composition,'  one  of  his  classmates  writes 
me, c  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  he  had  the  best  taste  and 
tact  of  any  in  the  class,  and  which  even  existed  when  we 
first  began  our  exercises  in  English  composition  ;  and  I  think 
he  had  more  uniformly  the  marks  of  approbation  from  the 
professor  than  any  other.  He  was  the  best  reader,  and,  in 
my  opinion,  the  best  declaimer,  in  the  class.'  '  He  was 
decidedly,'  he  further  says,  '  a  hard  student,  and  a  great 
general  reader.  He  was  well  read  in  history  and  geography, 
and  in  the  periodical  works  of  English  literature.' 

"  In  the  exact  sciences  and  metaphysics,  his  immature 
age,  or  a  want  of  taste  for  them,  prevented  his  acquiring  the 
same  distinction  ;  though  another  classmate  tells  me  that  he 
recollects  the  surprise  he  felt  at  Buckminster's  recitations  in 
Euclid.  He  could  not  understand  how  one  so  young  could 
demonstfate  problems  so  difficult.  But  the  truth  was,  he 
had  extraordinary  powers,  and  his  conscientiousness,  as 
well  as  his  ambition  and  love  of  learning,  led  him  to  task 
those  powers  to  the  utmost.  He  studied  hard  ;  he  was 
faithful,  and  never,  I  am  confident,  went  into  a  recita 
tion  without  doing  all,  in  the  preparation,  that  he  was  able 
to  do. 

"  If  he  were  equalled  or  excelled  in  mathematics  or 
metaphysics,  yet,  take  him  for  all  in  all,  I  have  no  hesita 
tion  in  saying  he  stood  preeminent,  —  the  admiration  and 
pride  of  his  classmates.  He  was  much  noticed  by  distin 
guished  scholars  in  the  upper  classes,  and  was  fond  of  their 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    LOWELL.  105 

intercourse.  The  attentions  of  the  late  Judge  Story  to  him 
are  particularly  remembered. 

"  In  his  disposition  he  was  social,  but  it  never  led  him 
into  any  excesses.  He  had  a  fine  taste  in  music,  and  4  his 
flute  and  his  song,'  as  well  as  his  conversation,  are  spoken 
of  by  a  classmate  with  much  enthusiasm,  and  must  be  well 
remembered  by  all  who  survive  him. 

"  He  had  strong  feelings  and  predilections,  it  may  be 
strong  prejudices.  He  was  frank  and  open  as  the  day,  ex 
pressing  his  sense  of  what  he  deemed  censurable  sometimes 
warmly  and  very  independently,  but  never,  I  think,  with 
harshness.  He  escaped  college  censures,  not  because  he 
courted  popularity  with  his  instructors,  or  descended  to  what 
was  mean  and  dishonorable,  but  because  he  did  his  duty. 
Consecrated  to  God  from  his  birth,  and  early  intended  for 
the  Christian  ministry,  he  was  never  forgetful,  as  I  believe,  of 
his  high  destination.  His  fidelity  and  diligence  in  his  studies 
were  not  more  remarkable  than  his  exalted  moral  purity." 

Another  classmate  says  :  — 

"  Buckminster  had  strong  feelings,  prejudices,  and  predi 
lections,  and  indulged  both  his  likes  and  dislikes  to  a  great 
degree  ;  but  on  the  subject  of  the  latter  he  was  prudent, 
and  seldom  gave  way  to  vituperation.  But  he  was  so 
young  in  college,  and  was  so  interesting  in  his  person,  that 
there  was  a  species  of  halo  that  surrounded  his  character,  so 
that  most  of  us  were  carried  to  a  degree  of  enthusiasm  in 
our  admiration  of  him,  and  we  were  hardly  willing  to  make 
a  candid  comparison  of  him  with  others. 

"  With  respect  to  his  tastes,  I  well  remember  that  he 
was  very  fond  of  Shakspeare  and  the  drama,  and  a  visit  to 
the  theatre  was  the  greatest  gratification  he  could  receive. 
I  do  not  think  his  argumentative  powers  were  of  the  highest 
order  ;  nor  that  he  was  fond  of  engaging  in  discussions  of 
that  nature." 


106  QUICKNESS    OF    SENSIBILITY. 

Another  gentleman,  afterwards  an  intimate  friend,* 
speaks  thus  of  his  first  appearance  at  college  :  — 

"  I  well  remember  his  first  appearance  at  an  exhibition  in 
his  Junior  year.  His  extreme  youth,  and  the  spirit  and 
talent  and  gracefulness  of  the  performance,  excited  much 
admiration. 

"  I  was  in  the  President's  study  when  he  sent  for  him  to 
announce  to  him  his  part  for  Commencement.  He  seemed 
much  surprised,  burst  into  tears,  and  said  he  should  never 
be  able  to  do  it  well.  The  good  Dr.  Willard,  with  the  most 
benign  countenance,  replied,  in  his  homely  way,  '  If  the 
government,  Buckminster,  did  not  think  you  would  do  it 
well,  and  do  credit  both  to  yourself  and  to  the  College,  they 
would  not  have  given  you  this  honorable  part.'  " 

The  quick  sensibility,  which  uttered  itself  so  often  in 
his  early  youth  in  a  spontaneous  burst  of  tears,  became, 
after  he  was  able  to  conquer  its  outward  expression,  an 
extremely  attractive  feature  in  his  character.  It  appear 
ed  in  an  intuitive  perception  of  the  feelings  of  others, 
and  an  eager  sympathy,  which  made  him  enter  with  zeal 
into  all  objects  of  benevolent  action.  But  I  think  it  may 
be  said  that  he  was  never  rash  or  precipitate.  He 
united  in  a  remarkable  degree  quickness  of  feeling  with 
thoughtfulness  and  deliberation  of  judgment.  He  early 
adopted  his  mother's  habit  of  not  finally  deciding  upon 
any  thing  that  deeply  affected  his  feelings,  till  after  he 
had  made  it  the  companion  of  his  pillow. 

It  indicates  the  public  sentiment  of  the  college,  when 
we  observe  that  the  exhibition  oration  upon  Enthusiasm 
is  almost  wholly  confined  to  military  enthusiasm,  depre- 

*  William  Wells,  Esq.,  of  Cambridge. 


COMMENCEMENT    ORATION.  107 

eating  the  example  of  France,  in  which  he  uses  this 
metaphor  :  —  u  Like  the  lovely  form  of  Apega,  a  single 
embrace  of  France  discloses  the  dagger  in  her  breast." 
The  subject  of  the  Commencement  oration,  u  The  Lit 
erary  Character  of  Different  Nations,"  was  too  compre 
hensive  for  the  limited  portion  of  time  necessarily  allowed 
to  one  of  many  speakers.  There  are  a  few  still  alive 
who  remember  the  impression  Joseph  then  made  on  the 
audience  "by  his  small,  youthful  figure,  contrasted  with 
the  maturity  and  extent  of  his  knowledge,  the  correct 
ness  as  well  as  brilliancy  of  his  imagination,  and  the  pro 
priety  and  grace  of  his  elocution."  A  short  extract 
may  be  pardoned  from  this  production  of  a  boy  of  six 
teen,  as  the  literature  of  Germany  was  hardly  then 
beginning  to  be  known  in  this  country. 

"  The  literature  of  Germany  is  remarkable  for  its  uni 
versality.  Exquisite  poetic  fictions,  abstruse  metaphysical 
disquisitions,  mathematical  subtilties,  and  all  the  graces  of 
fine  writing,  flourish  with  exuberance  amid  the  aristocracy 
of  the  German  Empire.  A  host  of  illustrious  names  contend 
for  the  palm  of  excellence.  Before  the  present  century  [the 
eighteenth]  German  literature  was  confined  to  theological 
wrangling,  or  to  compilations  from  the  works  of  others  ;  the 
wheels  of  literature  moved  heavily,  but  of  late  years  they 
have  rolled  with  such  boldness  and  rapidity,  that  some 
Phaeton  must  have  seized  the  reins. 

"  Italy !  There  are  the  graves  of  great  men !  Yes, 
where  once  the  warm  language  of  freedom  breathed  from 
the  lips  of  the  Gracchi,  the  poor  Catholic  now  mumbles  his 
Aves  and  Pater-Nosters.  In  that  forum  whose  benches 
once  were  filled  with  venerable  judges,  whose  walls  once 
echoed  the  voice  of  Cicero,  the  owl  now  sits  in  judgment, 
and  listens  to  the  eloquence  of  the  wind.  The  race  of  Ital- 


108  COMMENCEMENT    ORATION. 

ian  litterati  is  nearly  extinct.  Like  the  mammoth  of  Indian 
tradition,  they  have  traversed  the  Po,  the  Arno ;  they  have 
spread  their  mighty  power  over  other  countries,  but  in  Italy 
their  bones  only  are  to  be  found  at  this  day." 

As  he  repealed  these  passages,  his  animated  and 
beautiful  countenance  varied  with  every  change  of  topic, 
which  gave  to  it  an  eloquence  it  is  impossible  to  for 
get  ;  and  when  he  ceased,  the  applause  came  not  alone 
from  generous  youths,  but  from  grave  and  gray-headed 
men. 

It  may  seem  almost  impertinent  to  the  reader  to  dwell 
thus  upon  the  production  of  a  youth  of  sixteen.  We 
will  close  the  account  of  his  college  life  in  the  beautiful 
language  of  another  :  * —  "  Amidst  the  temptations  of  the 
place,  he  gave  an  example  of  the  possible  connection 
of  the  most  splendid  genius  with  the  most  regular  and 
persevering  industry  ;  of  a  generous  independence  of 
character,  with  a  perfect  respect  for  the  governors  of 
the  College  ;  of  a  keen  relish  for  every  innocent  enjoy 
ment,  with  a  fixed  dread  of  every  shadow  of  vice.  It 
may  be  said  of  him,  as  has  been  remarked  of  a  kindred 
genius,  f  "  that  he  did  not  need  the  smart  of  guilt  to  make 
him  virtuous,  nor  the  regret  of  folly  to  make  him  wise." 

*  Thatcher's  Memoir.  t  Pres.  Kirkland,  of  Fisher  Ames. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

JOSEPH   S.    BUCKMINSTER. ASSISTANT    IN    EXETER   ACADEMY. 

THEOLOGICAL     STUDIES.  METHOD     OF     STUDY.  LET 
TERS. 

1800.  No  arrangement  could  have  been  more  agree- 
Aged  16.  abjg  both  to  father  and  son  than  that  by  which 
Joseph  was  appointed  Assistant  in  Exeter  Academy. 
It  was  returning  to  his  second  home,  almost  again  within 
sound  of  the  parental  voice,  and  to  the  family  of  Dr.  Ab 
bot,  where  there  were  friends- who  had  cherished  his  ten 
der  boyhood,  when,  at  eleven  years  old,  he  entered  the 
Academy  as  a  pupil,  and  who  were  now  ready  to  encourage 
and  strengthen  and  fortify  his  youth.  He  always  looked 
back  upon  this  period  of  his  life  as  full  of  profitable  in 
struction,  rich  in  friendships,  and  filled  with  religious 
as  well  as  literary  associations.  It  was  now,  if  at  any 
one  period  more  marked  than  another,  that  deep  relig 
ious  impressions  were  made  upon  his  mind.  He  pro 
posed  to  join  his  father's  church,  and  was  accepted, 
without  any  doubts  of  his  father  as  to  the  sincerity  or 
fitness  of  his  profession. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  proposed  your  desire  to  join  the 
Church  the  last  Lord's  day,  and  if  you  continue  to  wish  to 
give  in  your  name  as  a  follower  of  Christ,  and  explicitly 
to  confess  him  before  men,  the  season  for  attending  to  the 
solemn  transaction  will  be  the  Sabbath  after  next.  The 
10 


110  RELIGIOUS    PROFESSION. 

transaction  you  have  in  view,  my  dear  son,  is  a  solemn  and 
interesting  one,  but  it  is  a  clearly  incumbent  duty,  and  there 
fore  its  solemnity  ought  not  to  discourage  us  from  it,  but 
only  excite  the  most  solicitous  concern  to  perform  it  under- 
standingly,  sincerely,  and  with  all  our  hearts.  Give  your 
self  up  unreservedly  to  God  through  Christ,  not  only  to  be 
saved  by  him,  but  to  be  ruled  by  him  and  to  be  his  subject 
and  servant  for  ever ;  relying  upon  the  power  of  his  grace 
and  the  promised  influences  of  his  spirit  to  perfect  his 
whole  work  in  your  heart.  Count  the  cost,  consider  the 
price,  and  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of 
his  might.  If  he  keep  you,  you  will  stand,  —  your  own 
strength  is  weakness.  Pray  much,  pray  often,  my  son,  and 
God  be  with  you. 

"  Your  little  brother  was  baptized  last  Sabbath,  to  whom 
we  gave  the  name  of  William.  It  was  a  solemn  and  a  joy 
ful  Sabbath."  * 

This  is  the  only  letter  of  the  father's  that  remains 
during  the  period  in  which  the  son  was  Assistant  at  the 
Academy.  Joseph's  proximity  to  Portsmouth,  and  very 
frequent  visits  to  his  family,  enabled  his  father  to  remit 
that  constant  watchfulness  of  parental  oversight.  He 
had  learned  also  to  trust  and  confide.  Confidence  must 
be  earned  and  won,  even  in  the  relation  between  father 
and  son ;  and  the  son  had  now  won,  by  his  lovely  and 
obedient  life,  the  full  and  perfect  confidence  of  the  anx 
ious  and  perhaps  too  exacting  father. 

Of  many  prayers  preserved  among  the  papers  of  the 
son,  the  following  appears  to  have  been  written  about 
this  time. 

"  O  God !  pardon  my  foolish  fears  and  my  unreasonable 
*  William  died  at  the  age  of  ten  months. 


SELF-CONSECRATION.  Ill 

desires.  I  have  vainly  regretted  that  which  was  not  worthy 
of  remembrance,  I  have  feared  other  evils  than  that  moral 
evil  which  can  alone  injure  an  immortal  soul.  The  exter 
nal  circumstances  of  my  life  I  leave  submissively  at  thy 
disposal,  for  thou  knowest  what  is  best  for  me,  but  I  beseech 
thee  earnestly  for  that  wisdom  which  cometh  from  above. 
O  God  !  thou  hast  looked  upon  me  from  the  throne  of  thy 
compassion  and  the  time  was  indeed  a  time  of  love.  If 
the  events  of  my  life  should  be  disastrous,  if  my  exist 
ence  should  become  every  day  less  worthy  of  possession, 
if  all  the  blessings  that  hold  me  to  it  should  loosen  and 
drop  away,  still  the  gift  of  Jesus,  the  hope  of  pardon  and 
perfection,  the  least  glimpse  of  immortality  and  of  living 
in  thy  favor,  would  be  themes  of  thankfulness  which  could 
never  be  exhausted.  O  God !  should  I  live,  may  I  live 
to  thee  ;  may  I  cherish  every  moment  that  passes,  and  con 
secrate  it  to  thy  honor  and  the  service  of  my  fellow-men. 
Assist  me,  unworthy  as  I  am,  in  the  performance  of  my 
daily  duty.  Strengthen  my  weakness  ;  enlighten  my  under 
standing  ;  direct  my  inquiries  and  awaken  more  and  more 
my  zeal  in  the  search  of  truth.  May  the  fear  of  man,  of 
the  honored  and  beloved,  fade  away  before  the  love  and 
search  after  truth,  —  thy  truth,  which  is  the  most  precious 
thing,  the  inestimable  jewel,  before  which  all  other  things 
grow  dim  and  perish." 

The  personal  recollections  of  the  writer  may  now  take 
the  place  of  record  and  tradition.  She  was  now  old 
enough  to  be  able  to  appreciate  what  she  saw  in  her  broth 
er,  and  to  recollect  with  distinctness  the  impression  which 
his  youthful  person  and  his  intellectual  manliness  made 
upon  the  circle  of  his  friends.  When  the  blessed  day 
came  round  that  brought  him  to  the  parental  roof,  there 
was  seen  a  peculiar  exhilaration,  from  the  wrinkled  vis- 


H2  HOME    VISITS. 

age  of  the  old  nurse,  who  caught  him  to  her  aged  arms,  to 
the  smoothed  brow  of  his  father,  to  whom  the  presence  of 
his  son  always  brought  the  halcyon  of  peace.  He  never 
praised  or  flattered,  or  showed  any  undue  partiality,  but 
the  mere  presence  of  Joseph  shed  a  tranquil  satisfaction 
through  the  whole  family  ;  and  yet  it  was  nothing  that  he 
said  or  did  that  diffused  this  spirit  of  content  around.  It 
is  related  of  Silvio  Pellico,  that,  when  he  merely  walked 
through  the  wards  of  his  prison,  his  presence  was  felt, 
by  the  instantaneous  change  in  the  aspect  of  the  prison 
ers.  The  ferocious  became  human,  the  violent  gentle, 
the  melancholy  smiled  ;  such  was  the  power  of  a  beauti 
ful  nature.  In  Joseph  it  was  the  perfect  freedom  and 
fidelity  of  his  manners  to  his  feelings;  the  transparency 
of  thought,  word,  and  deed  ;  we  felt  in  the  presence  of 
a  true  being  ;  he  seemed  surrounded  with  that  pure 
living  ether,  in  which  painters  enshrine  their  Madonnas 
and  Saints.  There  was  such  a  peaceful  unison  in  the 
beaming  sweetness  of  his  countenance  and  the  unpre 
tending  gentleness  of  his  demeanour,  he  seemed  in 
deed  an  angel  in  disguise,  come  to  diffuse  a  heavenly 
fragrance  over  the  homely  and  common  cares  of  our 
every-day  life  ;  and  if  there  was  no  pause  in  domestic 
duties,  there  was  a  holiday  in  eyery  heart. 

The  reverence  that  he  had  for  his  father  was  not 
mingled  with  reserve  and  fear,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case 
in  families  educated  under  the  severe  Puritan  rule  ;  there 
was  something  so  genial,  so  joyous,  in  the  son,  that  the 
veil  fell  from  the  father's  mind  in  his  presence,  and 
they  met  as  equals  and  confidential  friends. 

A  young  person  who  was  much  in  the  family  at  this 
time,  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which  he  laid  aside  the 
Puritan  reserve  of  children  towards  their  parents,  ex- 


FILIAL    AND    FRATERNAL    RELATIONS.  113 

claimed,  on  one  occasion,  "  Why,  Joseph  says  any  thing 
to  his  father."  And  on  the  principle  of  saying  any 
thing,  when  his  father  informed  him  of  his  intention  of 
marrying  for  the  third  time,  he  answered,  <£  Why,  papa," 
for  he  always  preserved  this  childlike  appellation,  "  I 
believe  you  interpret  the  Apostle's  injunction,  to  be  the 
husband  of  one  wife,  as  a  command  never  to  be  with 
out  a  wife."  His  father  smiled,  and  said  he  thought 
it  a  good  interpretation. 

The  distance  in  years,  as  well  as  in  intellectual  prog 
ress,  between  himand  his  younger  sisters  was  too  great 
for  them  to  feel  that  familiar  confidence  with  him  that 
he  so  much  desired.  They  looked  up  to  him  as  to  a 
superior  being,  while  he  made  every  effort  to  remove 
their  timidity  and  to  increase  their  confidence  in  his 
friendship  and  tenderness.  Every  thing  that  he  left 
in  his  humble  home  when  he  went  to  Exeter  was  cher 
ished  with  miserly  care, —  the  simple  drawings  and  prints 
that  he  pasted  on  the  wall  of  his  bedroom,  the  chest 
where  he  kept  his  boyish  tools  ;  and  even  a  small  twig 
that  he  stuck  into  the  soil,  in  a  very  inconvenient  spot, 
was  never  allowed  to  be  pulled  up,  and  a  large  tree, 
only  a  few  years  ago,  attested  the  careful  affection  with 
which  "Joseph's  tree"  had  been  regarded. 

These  months  spent  in  the  instruction  of  youth  at  the 
Academy  he  always  regarded  as  of  peculiar  value,  as 
leading  him  to  review  and  fix  in  his  mind  his  own  early 
classical  studies,  and  as  giving  him  that  accuracy  and 
readiness  in  elementary  principles  in  which  the  prepara 
tory  schools  of  the  country  were  at  that  time  chiefly 
deficient.  He  often  repealed,  that  he  considered  it  a 
singular  advantage  to  a  young  man  to  be  able  to  fix  that 
10* 


114  THE    INSTRUCTOR    OF    DANIEL    WEBSTER. 

which  he  had  himself  just  learned  more  firmly  in  hit 
memory  by  teaching  it  to  another  ;  thus  deepening  the 
first  footprints  of  learning,  before  they  were  effaced  by 
the  successive  tracks  of  other  sciences. 

His  extremely  youthful  appearance  while  a  teacher 
must  have  presented  a  strong  contrast  to  the  young  men, 
far  older  in  face  and  limb,  as  they  were  in  years,  than 
their  instructor  ;  and  this  gave  him  at  first  an  embarrass 
ment  that  appeared  in  real  diffidence  and  enhanced  the 
youthfulness  of  his  aspect.  He  was  almost  discouraged, 
as  appears  from  one  of  his  letters  ;  but  he  had  already 
learned  never  to  shrink  from  any  duty  that  he  had  delib 
erately  undertaken. 

At  this  time  he  had  the  honor  and  privilege  of  being 
the  instructor  of  Daniel  Webster.  Mr.  Webster,  in  a 
manuscript  memoir  of  his  early  life,  says,  —  '•  My  first 
lessons  in  Latin  were  recited  to  Joseph  Stevens  Buck- 
minster,  at  that  time  an  assistant  at  the  Academy.  I 
made  tolerable  progress  in  all  the  branches  I  attended  to 
under  his  instruction,  but  there  was  one  thing  I  could  not 
do, —  I  could  not  make  a  declamation,  I  could  not  speak 
before  the  school.  The  kind  and  excellent  Buckmin- 
ster  especially  sought  to  persuade  me  to  perform  the 
exercise  of  declamation  like  the  other  boys,  but  I  could 
not  do  it.  Many  a  piece  did  I  commit  to  memory 
and  rehearse  in  my  own  room,  over  and  over  again  ; 
but  when  the  day  came,  when  the  school  collected, 
when  my  name  was  called,  and  I  saw  all  eyes  turned 
upon  my  seat,  I  could  not  raise  myself  from  it.  Some 
times  the  masters  frowned,  sometimes  they  smiled.  Mr. 
Buckminster  always  pressed  and  entreated,  with  the  most 
winning  kindness,  that  I  would  only  venture  once  ;  but 
I  could  not  command  sufficient  resolution,  and  when  the 


THE    INSTRUCTOR    OF    DANIEL    WEBSTER.  115 

occasion  was  over  I  went  home  and  wept  bitter  tears 
of  mortification." 

What  interesting  thoughts  does  this  description  ex 
cite,  with  all  the  gathered  associations  of  so  many  years  ! 
The  youthful  teacher  winning  the  future  statesman  to 
exert  that  unsuspected  power  which  has  since  had  such 
wide-spread  and  powerful  influence.  Did  he  discern 
that  noble  intellect,  that  exalted  genius,  then  concealed 
in  the  bashful  reserve  of  his  pupil  ?  The  sensibility  that 
made  Webster  shrink  from  display  would  have  indi 
cated  to  a  penetrating  eye  the  hidden  power  ;  and  the 
persevering  kindness  with  which  the  instructor  urged 
again  and  again  that  he  would  only  venture  once  proves 
that  he  was  conscious  there  was  much  concealed  that 
only  needed  encouragement  to  bring  out  and  make  him 
know  his  latent  power.  Mr.  Webster  was  older  than 
Buckminster.  Had  the  teacher  been  permitted  to  live 
to  observe  the  splendid  career  of  the  pupil,  with 
what  pride  would  he  have  looked  back  to  the  moment 
when  his  youthful  voice  soothed  and  encouraged  the 
diffidence  of  one  afterwards  so  eminent ! 

As  soon  as  Joseph  was  established  in  the  Acad 
emy,  he  began  the  preparatory  studies  for  the  profession 
which  seems  from  his  earliest  consciousness  to  have 
been  his  free,  unbiased  choice.  '  The  author  of  the 
beautiful  memoir  of  him  already  quoted  says  :  —  u  The 
process  of  study  and  of  thought  through  which  he  passed 
in  forming  his  theological  opinions  cannot  be  too  much 
praised.  It  is  strange  that  a  principle  so  natural  and 
so  constantly  observed  in  all  the  other  sciences,  that 
of  beginning  with  what  is  simple  and  clear,  and  gradually 
proceeding  to  that  which  is  doubtful  and  dark,  should 


116  METHOD    OF    STUDY. 

have  been  so  often  reversed  in  the  study  of  theology. 
He  avoided  as  much  as  possible  all  the  controverted 
doctrines  of  divinity,  till  he  had  given  himself  a  thor 
ough  initiation  into  the  evidences  of  religion,  natural 
and  revealed  ;  examined  the  nature  and  degree  of  the 
inspiration  of  the  sacred  writings,  in  order  to  determine 
what  laws  of  interpretation  are  to  be  applied  to  them  ; 
taken  a  general  survey  of  the  questions  connected  with 
the  criticism  of  the  Bible-;  and  sanctified  all  his  investi 
gations  by  the  habitual  study  of  the  spirit  of  practical 
religion.  Having  by  these  inquiries,  together  with  an 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  original  languages,  prepared 
himself  for  the  interpretation  of  the  more  difficult  and 
obscure  parts  of  Scripture,  he  commenced  the  study 
of  them  with  the  aid  derived  from  a  comparison  of  the 
opinions  of  the  best  commentators,  of  different  sects  and 
opinions.  He  now  permitted  himself  to  consult  the 
writers  on  dogmatic  theology,  and  he  has  often  told 
me  with  what  eager  curiosity,  with  what  trembling  in 
terest,  he  read  Taylor  and  Edwards  on  original  sin, 
and  pushed  his  researches  into  those  higher  speculations, 
where  so  much  caution  is  necessary  to  prevent  the  mind 
from  becoming  enslaved  to  a  peculiar  system,  and  shut 
for  ever  against  the  light  of  truth." 

There  is  a  note  among  his  manuscripts  describing  the 
manner  in  which  he  studied  the  Scriptures,  which  may 
be  worth  describing.  He  began  by  the  preliminary  ques 
tions  relating  to  connection  with  other  passages  ;  the 
time  and  place  and  cause  of  the  passage,  and  the  cir 
cumstances  of  the  people  and  nation.  Then  he  com 
pared  the  various  readings  and  settled  the  meaning  of 
the  words,  as  well  as  he  was  able,  by  accurate  translation, 
division,  and  punctuation.  Then,  by  philological  notes. 


METHOD    OF    STUDY.  117 

concise  and  explanatory,  and  by  comparing  commenta 
tors,  he  endeavoured  to  educe  the  best  meaning  and  the 
true  doctrine.  Lastly,  he  added  practical  and  moral  con 
clusions. 

The  above  is  quoted  as  giving  a  comprehensive  view 
of  his  method  of  study  through  the  whole  of  his  short 
life.  At  Exeter  he  was  but  just  beginning.  He  had 
laid  out  a  most  extensive  plan,  which  it  would  have  taken 
a  much  longer  life  to  complete.  He  thought  himself 
but  a  beginner  upon  the  outer  threshold  of  knowledge, 
and  the  wide  horizon  constantly  opening  before  him  and 
constantly  enlarging  in  advance  of  his  eager  footsteps. 
He  began  every  study  with  a  most  devout  and  humble 
spirit  ;  and,  of  a  very  large  number  of  prayers  preserved 
among  his  papers,  many  have  reference  to  and  were 
written  at  the  commencement  of  particular  studies.  Of 
the  result  of  his  conscientious  application  of  his  powers 
his  sermons  are  now  the  only  memorial,  and  it  will  be 
seen,  as  we  go  on  with  this  memoir,  what  advance  he 
made  even  in  the  short  path  he  was  permitted  to  travel. 

But  his  professional  studies,  although  holding  a  high 
place  in  his  esteem,  were  not  allowed  to  encroach  upon 
the  time  which  it  was  his  duty  to  devote  to  the  Academy. 
He  felt  a  warm  interest  in  its  reputation,  and  entered 
into  'a  correspondence  with  gentlemen  who  were  ac 
quainted  with  the  English  schools  of  the  highest  rank. 
In  a  letter  to  the  late  John  Pickering,  written  at  this 
time,  he  says,  —  "  The  institution  established  here  has, 
of  late  years,  from  its  ample  endowments  and  from  other 
causes,  such  a  degree  of  credit  and  respectability  that 
the  trustees  and  instructors  find  it  in  their  power  to  take 
the  lead  of  other  academies  in  the  country,  and  to  estab 
lish  for  themselves  any  course  of  study  and  system  of 


118  CORRESPONDENCE. 

instruction  which  they  please."  He  received  an  an 
swer  from  Mr.  Pickering,  and  from  Mr.  King,  then  our 
ambassador,  who  had  two  sons  at  Harrow  school,  an 
ample  account  of  the  course  of  studies  at  both  Harrow 
and  Eton  schools.  This  was  not  a  duty  required  of 
him,  but  it  shows  the  generous  ardor  with  which  he  pro 
moted  the  welfare  of  every  worthy  object. 

That  he  was  at  this  time  a  diligent  student  appears 
from  a  journal,  in  which  the  books  he  read  are  recorded, 
with  remarks  upon  them.  Unfortunately,  a  great  part  of 
this  journal  is  kept  in  a  short-hand  character.  There  is 
a  record  of  nearly  three  months  in  the  journal,  written 
out  in  plain  English.* 

A  letter  of  this  period  written  to  Mr.  Frank  Williams 
affords  the  first  intimation  of  his  religious  views  and 
preferences. 

"  Sept.,  1801. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  If  you  had  searched  the  recesses  of 
my  heart,  you  could  not  have  selected  topics  of  correspond 
ence  more  dear  than  those  which  filled  your  last  letter. 
The  Chapel  service  was  ever  anticipated  by  me  as  one  of  the 
richest  sources  of  improvement  which  Boston,  so  fertile  in 

*  From  November  1,  1800,  to  January  20,  1801 :  — Priestley's  Har 
mony  of  the  Gospels,  Parts  1st  and  2d.  Cave's  Primitive  Christianity. 
Whiston's  Josephus,  4  vols.  Studies  in  Hebrew.  Made  extracts 
from  Priestley  and  Josephus.  Jew's  Letter  to  Voltaire.  Grolfus  de 
Veritate.  Priestley's  Corruptions  of  Christianity;  twice.  Do.  Plain 
Account  of  Lord's  Supper;  also,  Kippis's  Sermon  on  the  same  subject. 
Made  an  abstract  of  Bythner's  Institutiones  Chaldaicse.  Read  Dean 
and  Otis  on  Prosody.  Read  the  Pursuits  of  Literature.  Read  Latin, 
and  about  six  pages  of  extracts  from  Xenophon's  Cyropa?dia  in  Dal- 
zel's  Col.  Gr.  Maj.  I  was  confined  by  illness  one  fortnight,  during 
which  time  I  read  nothing  but  the  history  of  Sir  Charles  Grandison. 
Brought  from  home  Beza.  Leighton's  Crit.  Sacr.  Butler's  Analogy. 
Newton  on  the  Proph.  Locke's  Paraphrase.  I  desire  to  be  thankful 
that  I  have  been  able  to  do  so  much. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  119 

such  sources,  could  afford.  The  sublime  simplicity  of  the 
Liturgy ;  the  accuracy,  elegance,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
solemnity,  of  the  style  in  whjph  it  is  composed  seem  at  once 
to  reconcile  us  to  the  ceremony  of  its  forms  and  its  repeti 
tions,  and  exalt  the  soul  irresistibly  to  feelings  of  devotion. 
Add  to  this  the  deep  and  full  tones  of  the  organ,  not  when 
sounding  the  wild  fugue  of  an  executioner,  but  swelling  the 
notes  of  celestial  praise  ;  and  where  is  the  soul  so  narrow, 
so  sordid,  that  it  perceives  not  an  expansion,  an  enlargement 
towards  more  exalted  worlds  ?  The  soul  is  borne  along 
without  effort,  on  the  full  tide  of  song,  as  if  itself  were  dis 
solving  into  music,  or,  to  give  you  a  better  idea  of  an  inde 
scribable  sensation,  we  feel  that  we  almost  wish  to  die,  to 
dissolve  into  sound. 

"  But  how  shall  I  express  to  you  my  regard  for  the  man 
who  fills  the  desk  ?  —  in  private  life  so  charitable,  so  benevo 
lent,  so  catholic  ;  so  full  of  the  finer  feelings  of  the  soul ; 
richly  adorned  with  knowledge  ;  full  of  the  most  rational 
candor,  with  an  excellent  taste,  and,  united  to  all  this,  a 
judgment  entirely  independent;  not  parsimonious  of  re 
proof,  but  gentle  as  a  parent  in  the  application.  Devoted 
to  the  young,  like  Socrates,  he  has  often  had  an  Alcibiades. 
You  acknowledge  his  remarkable  pulpit  gifts,  the  perspi 
cuity  of  his  discourses,  the  solidity  of  his  reasoning,  the 
ingenuity  with  which  his  sentiments  are  defended,  the  gen 
eral  weight  of  the  instruction  that  his  sermons  contain. 
Eternal  happiness  attend  him,  '  my  guide,  philosopher,  and 
friend '  ! 

"  But,  my  dear  F.,  I  have  ever  found,  where  there  is  so 
great  a  disparity  of  age  as  between  Mr.  Freeman  and  my 
self,  though  there  may  be  profound  respect  and  a  chastened 
familiarity,  there  is  still  wanting  that  full  congeniality  and 
unrestrained  mutual  effusion  of  sentiment  that  exist  between 
those  of  more  equal  ages. 


120  LETTER    OF    MRS.    ABBOT. 

"  I  confess  to  you  I  was  very  much  pleased  with  some 
passages  of  your  letter  which  I  was  not  prepared  to  expect 
from  your  connections  and  habits  of  life.  To  obtrude  a  pious 
sentiment  or  a  religious  impression,  when  we  know  it  will 
be  made  the  sport  of  ridicule  and  insult,  is  not  a  merit  or  a 
duty,  but  only  an  impertinence.  Who  would  introduce  an 
Apostle  to  the  gaming-table  ?  But  to  bear  witness  to  our 
Creator  when  circumstances  demand,  and  to  avow  our  be 
lief  when  it  is  attacked,  or  when  occasion  justifies,  is  no  less 
the  honor  than  the  duty  of  a  young  man.  I  have  often  found 
that  the  exclusive  society  of  men  of  this  world  leaves  me 
little  disposition  to  cherish  the  few  sparks  of  piety  which 
have  been  kindled  in  my  breast.  In  the  midst  of  such 
society  our  religious  honor,  if  I  may  so  speak,  grows  dull  ; 
a  sarcasm  against  Christianity  hardly  wounds  us.  our  testi 
mony  to  the  truth  becomes  more  feeble.  This,  I  say,  I  have 
witnessed  within  myself,  and  forgive  me  if  I  was  thus  more 
easily  induced  to  believe  it  of  others." 

To  his  residence  in  Exeter  at  this  time  Joseph  was 
indebted  for  many  valuable  and  long-enduring  friendships. 
That  of  the  venerable  Principal  of  the  Academy  and  his 
family  were  among  the  most  precious  acquisitions  of  his 
life.  After  the  lapse  of  nearly  fifty  years,  Mrs.  Abbot 
writes  of  him  thus  :  — 

"  The  relation  in  which  he  stood  to  us  while  Assistant  at  the 
Academy  was  that  of  a  most  cherished  and  tenderly  beloved 
friend  ;  and  although  not  a  member  of  my  family,  yet  no  one 
was  ever  welcomed  with  more  heartfelt  joy  around  the  domes 
tic  altar  than  this  favored  son  of  promise.  His  very  presence 
brought  with  it  a  gentle  and  joyous  exhilaration.  After  the 
lapse  of  almost  half  a  century,  and  with  the  mental  infirmi 
ties  of  age  pressing  upon  me,  I  find  it  difficult  to  recall  in 
detail  the  many  anecdotes  which,  perhaps,  an  earlier  period 


FIRST    ATTACK    OF    ILLNESS.  121 

would  have  enabled  me  to  retain ;  but  the  time-hallowed 
impression  of  his  social  and  intellectual  resources  can  never 
be  forgotten." 

He  was  indeed,  as  his  venerable  friend  expresses,  u  the 
son  of  promise  and  the  son  of  hope."  He  had  just 
completed  his  eighteenth  year.  He  had  been  borne 
along  from  year  to  year  upon  his  father's  hopes  and 
prayers  ;  he  had  passed  through  all  preceding  trials,  and, 
although  so  young,  his  character  for  all  purposes  of  ex 
cellence  was  fixed  and  decided.  He  had  entered  upon 
that  course  of  never-ending  progress  in  virtue  and  knowl 
edge,  from  which  there  was  now  no  danger  of  his  turning 
aside  ;  he  had  begun  the  race  upon  that  path  whose  light 
shineth  brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect  day  ;  dawn 
ing  honors  began  to  blush  around  him  ;  loving  friends 
stood  ready  to  witness  his  progress  ;  his  father  relaxed 
his  anxious  brow,  and  began  to  thank  God  for  this  "  son 
of  promise  "  ;  when  suddenly,  as  by  an  arrow  from  the 
cloudless  sky,  he  was  struck  down  by  the  fatal  malady 
that  followed  him  afterwards,  almost  unrelentingly,  to  the 
close  of  his  short  life.* 

His  illness  excited  universal  sympathy  in  the  Academy, 
and  the  writer  well  remembers  the  consternation  which 
spread  in  the  little  circle  of  home,  when  the  news  of  this 
distressing  event  struck  upon  the  hearts  of  parents  and 
sisters.  While  some  anxious  friends  looked  upon  this 
visitation  as  the  wreck  of  all  their  hopes,  and  others 
urged  the  immediate  relinquishment  of  all  mental  effort, 
and  a  total  change  from  a  studious  to  an  active  life,  — 
while  his  father  bowed  submissively,  but  with  stricken 
heart,  to  the  "  sovereign  will  of  God,"  —  the  son  was 

*  His  first  attack  was  in  the  Academy,  in  the  autumn  of  1802. 
11 


122  FIHST  ATTACK  OF  ILLNESS. 

calm  and  undismayed.  From  a  passage  in  his  journal 
we  learn  that  he  endeavoured  to  discern  the  designs  of 
Providence  in  this  dispensation,  —  to  look  upon  it  as  a 
check  to  all  worldly  ambition,  and,  whatever  his  future 
success,  as  a  perpetual  'lesson  of  humility.  It  was  not 
from  ignorance,  nor  from  insensibility  to  the  appalling 
nature  of  the  malady,  or  the  tremendous  consequences 
to  which  it  might  lead,  that  he  received  the  stroke  thus 
calmly.  How  little  they  knew  him  who  imagined  it  was 
from  ignorance,  or  from  any  thing  but  the  humblest 
acquiescence  in  the  will  of  God,  the  following  extract 
from  his  journal  shows. 

"  Another  fit  of  epilepsy.  I  pray  God  that  I  may  be  pre 
pared,  not  so  much  for  death  as  for  the  loss  of  health,  and 
perhaps  of  mental  faculties.  The  repetition  of  these  fits 
must  at  length  reduce  me  to  idiotcy !  Can  I  resign  myself 
to  the  loss  of  memory,  and  of  that  knowledge  I  may  have 
vainly  prided  myself  upon  ?  O  my  God !  enable  me  to 
bear  this  thought,  and  make  it  familiar  to  my  mind,  that,  by 
thy  grace,  I  may  be  willing  to  endure  life  as  long  as  thou 
pleasest  to  lengthen  it.  It  is  not  enough  to  be  willing  to 
leave  the  world  when  God  pleases  ;  we  should  be  willing 
even  to  live  useless  in  it,  if  he,  in  his  holy  providence,  should 
send  such  a  calamity  upon  us.  O  God  !  save  me  from 
that  hour ! " 

The  passage  above  was  never  intended  for  human  eye, 
but  after  reading  it  we  are  deeply  impressed  with  the 
manliness  of  his  future  course.  It  was,  indeed,  the  most 
striking  trait  in  his  character.  He  never  referred  in 
any  manner  whatever  to  his  malady.  It  was  never  an  ex 
cuse  from  any,  the  utmost,  mental  exertion.  It  was  never 
allowed  to  diminish  his  usefulness,  and  hardly  to  impair 


LETTERS    TO    A    CLASSMATE.  123 

his  cheerfulness.  Only  the  sister  who  lived  with  him, 
and  whose  watchful  eye  was  scarcely  ever  closed,  knew 
how  often  his  attacks  occurred,  and  how  he  shook  off 
the  languor  and  lassitude  they  left,  and  with  serene  brow 
armed  himself  for  the  waiting  duty. 

Some  extracts  from  letters  to  a  classmate  remain,  of 
this  period.* 

"Exeter,  Sept.,  1801. 

"DEAR  FRIEND,  —  My  feelings  and  habits  are  so  much 
changed  since  I  wrote  you  last,  that  I  have  hardly  one  pas 
sion  in  common  with  those  which  dictated  my  former  letters, 
except  that  of  affection  for  you,  which  I  hope  to  retain  amid 
all  the  reverses  of  life.  Your  last  letter,  though  couched  in 
the  gentlest  language,  was  a  severe  reproach  of  my  negli 
gence  in  suffering  a  correspondence  once  so  interesting  to 
languish  in  suspense.  But  it  has  ever  been  my  fault  to  be 
too  much  the  slave  of  time  and  circumstance,  and  to  suffer 
the  frequency  of  correspondence  to  abate  without  any  dimi 
nution  of  regard  to  my  friends.  My  last  letter  to  you,  which 
I  have  not  to  this  day  completed,  I  had  wrought  up  with 
considerable  pains.  It  was  a  summary  of  arguments  used 
to  confute  Mr.  Hume's  assertion  of  the  impossibility  of  prov 
ing  miracles  by  testimony.  As  I  had  begun  it  as  much  for 
my  own  satisfaction  as  for  your  perusal,  as  fast  as  I  matured 
a  paragraph  I  copied  it  into  the  letter.  When  this  ingens 
opus  was  nearly  completed,  as  it  lay  loose  upon  my  table,  it 
was  by  some  mischance  torn  and  mutilated,  and  rendered 
wholly  useless.  About  this  time  rny  mind  began  to  be  oc 
cupied  with  the  idea  of  coming  here,  and  my  situation  since 
has  left  me  neither  the  disposition  nor  the  ability  to  resume 
the  subject. 

"  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  made  any  effort  in  the  way  of 
composition  that  the  news  of  your  having  written  two  ser- 

*  Rev.  Joshua  Bates,  D.  D.,  late  President  of  Middlebury  College. 


124  LETTERS    TO    A    CLASSMATE. 

mons  really  alarmed  me.  Go  on,  my  friend,  and  prosper, 
and  may  the  God  of  truth  lead  you  into  all  truth,  and 
give  you  understanding  in  all  things.  As  for  myself,  I 
feel  my  literary  enthusiasm  abate  by  this  change  in  my 
situation ;  the  spoils  of  ancient  and  of  modern  learning  are 
snatched  out  of  my  hands,  and  he  who  once  vainly  and  am 
bitiously  aspired  to  the  name  of  a  scholar  is  now  reduced  to 
teach  beggarly  rudiments  to  the  child,  or  to  hammer  the 
higher  branches  into  harder  heads.  The  poor  moments  of 
leisure  which  I  enjoy  will  hardly  admit  of  any  close  applica 
tion,  and  if  the  approach  of  winter  does  not  strengthen  my 
mind,  with  my  body,  I  shall  soon  be  obliged  to  look  back 
upon  my  past  life  and  say,  'Fin!''  O  my  friend  !  of  all 
the  maladies  of  the  mind  melancholy  is  the  worst.  It  is  at 
once  the  parent,  the  offspring,  and  the  companion  of  idle 
ness. 

"  If  you  ask  what  has  been  my  course  of  reading  since  I 
have  been  here,  I  could  scarcely  answer,  as  it  has  been  with 
out  order,  without  interest,  and  without  effect.  I  have  read 
about  a  hundred  pages  of  Latin,  about  thirteen  in  Greek, 
and  the  one  hundred  and  nineteenth  Psalm  in  Hebrew, 
and  consulted  the  Greek  Testament  about  a  dozen  times.  I 
have  made  out  to  get  through  Montesquieu's  Rise  and  Fall, 
and  one  volume  of  Sully's  Memoirs. 

"  If  possible,  I  will  spend  a  day  with  you  in  the  vaca 
tion,  and  we  will  see  each  other  face  to  face.  I  love 
better  to  converse  than  to  write.  If  I  should  hunt  up  the 
originals  of  my  last  letter,  I  will  reduce  them  to  some  order 
and  send  them. 

"  Farewell !    Yours,  with  unabated  regard, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

From  the  above  letter  it  appears  that  the  change  from 
the  careless  freedom  of  college  life  to  the  somewhat 
irksome  duty  of  teaching  the  beggarly  rudiments  was  at 


LETTERS    TO    A    CLASSMATE.  125 

first  not  without  its  effect  in  checking  the  serenity  of  his 
disposition.  He  suffered  at  first  from  that  which  is 
always  to  men  of  rich  endowments  a  vexing  and  irksome 
employment.  But  he  was  able  to  convert  it  into  a 
source  of  mental  improvement  for  himself,  and  into  an 
elevating  and  satisfactory  occupation. 

Another  extract  from  a  letter  of  this  period  to  the 
same  friend  follows  :  — 

"  Exeter,  March  1st. 

"Indeed,  my  dear  friend,  the  circumstances  of  your  set 
tlement  evince  that  you  still  retain  some  of  the  wisdom  of 
the  children  of  this  world.  I  rejoice  at  it,  because  I  think 
that,  by  being  relieved  from  the  pressing  cares  of  a  scanty 
subsistence,  you  will  have  leisure  to  devote  to  those  pursuits 
which  are  at  once  the  duty  and  the  dignity  of  a  minister. 
The  age  calls  loudly  for  able  defenders  of  Christianity.  The 
wild  boar  threatens  to  tear  down  the  hedges  of  our  vineyard, 
and  the  laborers  are  ignorant  and  inactive ;  they  know  not 
how  to  use  their  tools  for  the  culture  of  the  vine  or  the  de 
fence  of  the  vineyard.  I  hope,  my  friend,  when  the  husband 
man  cometh  and  asketh  for  the  fruit,  we  may  all  be  able  to 
produce  some  of  the  richest  clusters.  When  I  think  of  the 
duties  and  opportunities  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  the  mark 
to  which  they  should  press  forward  seems  much  more  ele 
vated  than  the  attainments  of  many  of  our  clergymen  would 
lead  one  to  expect.  Let  us  endeavour,  my  friend,  to  mag 
nify  our  office,  that  it  may,  by  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  prove 
at  least  a  barrier  to  that  inundation  of  infidelity  on  one  side 
and  enthusiasm  on  the  other  which  seems  to  be  sweeping 
away  all  that  we  hold  valuable. 

"  My  reading  has  reference  to  the  study  of  divinity,  as 
far  as  my  little  leisure  will  admit.  My  principal  progress 
has  been  in  the  La~tin  and  Greek  languages.  But  I  have  not 
the  suitable  books  to  prosecute  such  a  course  of  study  as  I 
should  wish  to  mark  out." 
11* 


CHAPTER    IX. 

JOSEPH'S     RESIDENCE     AT     WALTHAM. THEOLOGICAL     STUD- 

IES.  CORRESPONDENCE     WITH     HIS     FATHER     UPON     HIS 

RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS,    AND    UPON    HIS    ENTRANCE    ON    THE 

MINISTRY.  PURPOSE      OF      RELINQUISHING      HIS      CHOSEN 

PROFESSION. 

1803.  IN  the  midst  of  the  perplexity  arising  from 
Aged  19.  tne  father's  reluctance  that  his  son  should  con 
tinue  the  laborious  charge  of  instructor  at  Exeter  and 
at  the  same  time  the  mental  excitement  of  prepar 
ing  for  his  profession,  Providence  opened  a  way,  and 
the  kindness  of  that  excellent  relative,  Theodore  Ly- 
man,  suggested  the  means,  by  which  he  could  be  re 
lieved  from  the  instruction  at  the  Academy.  Joseph 
had  ever  found  in  him  and  in  Mrs.  Lyman  almost  the 
interest  and  solicitude  of  parents.  He  had  sometimes 
spent  a  part  of  his  college  vacations  under  their  hospi 
table  roof,  and  in  the  interval  between  his  leaving  col 
lege  and  entering  upon  his  duties  at  Exeter,  their  house 
had  been  to  him  a  home  in  parental  kindness,  and  far 
more  than  his  own  humble  home  in  the  attractions  of 
luxury  and  the  access  to  refined  society.  These  ex 
cellent  friends  now  interposed,  and,  while  they  desired 
that  he  should  live  in  their  family,  with  leisure  to  pur 
sue  his  studies,  proposed  that  he  and  his  father  should 
be  relieved  from  the  mortification  of  dependence  by 


RESIDENCE    AT    WALTHAM.  127 

the    light   task  of  instructing  Mr.   Lyman's  two   sons, 
and  preparing  the  elder  for  college. 

It  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1803  that  he  en 
tered  Mr.  Lyman's  family  as  an  instructor,  and  he 
then  \vanted  a  few  months  of  completing  his  nineteenth 
year.  His  residence  at  Exeter  had  given  firmness  and 
dignity  to  his  manners,  and  he  had  gained  in  stature 
and  in  manliness  of  appearance.  When  the  family  re 
moved  to  Waltham  he  accompanied  them  ;  and  in  that 
beautiful  residence,  surrounded  with  all  the  soothing 
and  strengthening  influences  of  nature,  he  advanced  both 
in  vigor  of  body  and  clearness  of  perception  and  in 
tellect. 

Amid  the  scenery  of  this  lovely  retreat,  where  land 
and  water  are  so  sweetly  blended,  and  the  hand  of  taste 
has  almost  created  another  Eden,  it  seems  as  though 
he  must  have  felt  the  peace  of  Eden.  With  the 
luxury  of  leisure,  the  early  morning  hours  for  study, 
and  the  quiet  evening  for  reflection,  soothed  by  the 
murmur  of  the  brook  that  ran  near  by,  in  which  the 
peaceful  stars  were  reflected,  the  perfumes  of  fra 
grant  shrubs  and  the  songs  of  birds  blending  with  the 
waving  of  the  grass  upon  the  gracefully  undulating  lawns, 
it  would  seem  as  if  the  whole  year  must  have  been  one 
long  holiday  of  tranquil  happiness.  And  so  it  would 
have  been,  could  the  kindness  of  disinterested  friend 
ship  and  the  society  of  the  refined  and  the  cultivated 
have  made  it  so.  We  learn  from  passages  in  his  jour 
nal  that  this  year  of  outward  peace  was  one  of  great 
mental  trial.  It  does  not  appear  what  was  the  cause 
of  the  conflict,  but  we  can  only  infer  that  it  was  con 
nected  with  the  growing  difference  of  his  religious  opin 
ions  from  those  of  his  father,  which  he  knew  must  at 


128  THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES. 

length  be  made  known,  and  occasion  that  beloved  fa 
ther  extreme  pain.  We  do  not  know  what  secret  con 
flicts  were  going  on  in  the  soul  amidst  outward  tran 
quillity.  The  great  battles  of  the  spiritual  life  are  usually 
fought  alone,  and  in  silence.  It  is  not  while  the  whole 
energies  of  the  mind  are  employed  in  sustaining  the 
weight  of  the  conflict,  that  descriptions  of  the  battle 
are  given.  It  is  afterwards,  when  they  can  be  looked 
back  upon  with  calmness  and  with  collected  thoughts  ; 
—  and  he  did  not  live  to  draw  lessons  for  others  from 
the  work  in  his  own  soul.  That  which  appears  out 
wardly  is  what  must  long  before  have  been  ripening  in 
the  mind,  and  all  that  is  seen  is  the  fruit  that  falls  from 
the  tree  of  life.  ct  The  world  hears  only  the  rustling 
of  the  leaves,  beneath  which  the  ripening  fruit  is  con 
cealed." 

It  was  at  this  time,  as  appears  from  his  journal,  that 
he  made  a  thorough  examination  of  the  Trinitarian, 
Socinian,  and  Arian  hypotheses  upon  the  person  and 
character  of  Christ,  reading  the  standard  Trinitarian 
writers,  and  Priestley's  History  of  the  Corruptions  of 
Christianity,  the  Apostolic  fathers,  the  contest  of 
Priestley  with  the  Monthly  Review,  and  Bishop  Hors- 
ley's  Tracts.  His  journal  gives  a  very  full  account  of 
these  studies,  and,  could  his  own  copies  of  the  works 
have  been  preserved,  we  should  be  able  to  see  by  re 
marks  and  references  how  faithfully  he  compared  and  il 
lustrated  the  various  subjects.  While  engaged  in  these 
studies  he  received  the  news  of  the  death  of  Priestley, 
and  wrote  in  his  journal :  —  "  Perhaps  for  the  variety  and 
universality  of  his  acquisitions  he  may  be  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  learned  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Party 
politics,  that  bane  of  every  thing  great  and  good,  have  cast 


EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  JOURNAL.  129 

a  shade  over  some  parts  of  this  great  man's  character  ; 
but  I  believe  that  posterity  will  do  justice  to  his  integri 
ty,  as  well  as  his  talents.  But  rather  than  lament  a 
loss  of  such  magnitude,  let  the  friends  of  rational  relig 
ion  and  religious  liberty  bless  God  for  granting  our  age 
such  a  strenuous  and  learned  friend,  and  for  continuing 
him  so  long,  the  admiration  and  glory  of  science  and 
of  religion  in  its  various  departments. " 

He  says  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  about  this  time,  that 
he  has  read  and  thought  upon  the  subject  of  the  Trini 
tarian  hypothesis  almost  to  distraction.  The  result  of 
his  inquiries  at  this  time  seems  to  have  been,  that  he 
rejected  Priestley's  view  of  the  pure  humanity  of  Jesus, 
and  also  the  hypothesis  of  a  Trinity  in  Unity.  He 
seems  to  have  adopted  the  belief  of  the  preexistence 
of  the  Saviour,  and  of  the  connection  of  his  life  and 
death  with  the  pardon  of  sin,  while  repentance  and 
a  holy  life  were  also  necessary  to  insure  the  favor  of 
God. 

An  extract  from  the  journal  of  this  period  shows  the 
great  admiration  he  felt  for  another  work  which  he  had 
just  studied  with  attention. 

"  February  22.  Finished  Hartley  this  evening.  I  have 
not  read  the  works  of  Bacon,  Newton,  or  Aristotle;  but  if 
I  may  be  allowed  to  judge  from  the  impression  which  this 
work  has  made  upon  my  own  mind,  it  is  the  most  wonderful 
work  ever  completed  by  one  man.  Acute,  ingenious,  origi 
nal  in  his  theory,  clear  and  decisive  in  his  facts,  deep  but 
impartial  in  his  reasonings,  unbiased  in  his  conclusions,  he 
presents  us  with  a  work,  the  unassisted,  but  complete,  pro 
duction  of  one  mind,  explaining  all  the  usual  phenomena 
of  mind  from  a  simple  and  undeniable  principle,  that  of 
association ;  and  by  this  clew  guiding  us  through  the  mazes 


130  THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES. 

of  metaphysics  and  of  morals.  In  fine,  every  part  of  his 
work  is  the  part  of  a  consistent  but  stupendous  whole. 
Though  the  theory  of  vibrations  may  be  wholly  separated 
from  the  system,  it  is  most  ingeniously  interwoven  with  it. 
The  second  volume  is  peculiarly  interesting  to  the  theo 
logian,  as  it  vindicates  the  ways  of  God  to  man.  It  contains 
the  only  hypothesis  which  satisfactorily  illustrates  the  in 
troduction  of  evil  and  the  nature  of  human  actions;  and, 
to  crown  the  whole,  a  rich  and  unusual  vein  of  piety  runs 
through  the  work,  which  cannot  fail  to  recommend  it  to  the 
serious .  Christian.  Thus  I  have  ventured  to  record  the 
superficial  decision  of  my  feeble  judgment.  If  I  should 
dare  to  point  out  the  weaker  parts,  I  should  mention  the 
chapter  on  the  terms  of  salvation,  and  some  few  passages 
in  the  evidences  of  Christianity  and  some  remarks  on  Evan 
gelical  counsels.  I  do  not  think  his  account  of  the  love 
of  God  either  exaggerated,  enthusiastic,  or  fanciful,  espe 
cially  when  he  so  often  acknowledges  that  it  is  hardly  at 
tainable  in  the  present  life.  His  notions  of  refined  self- 
interest  and  its  pleasures  are  not  easily  understood,  and  are 
very  inadequately  explained ;  and  there  seems  to  be  little 
propriety  in  making  the  moral  sense  a  principle  of  action, 
distinct,  from  the  principles  of  benevolence,  piety,  and 
rational  self-interest.  Of  the  notes  of  Pistoricus,  it  is 
enough  to  say,  that  they  are  worthy  to  accompany  the  work 
on  which  they  comment." 

The  profound  admiration  and  respect  that  Joseph 
felt  for  Dr.  Freeman  has  been  already  mentioned. 
The  latter  being  connected  by  marriage  with  his  father, 
he  frequently  invited  the  son  to  visit  and  pass  weeks  at 
his  house  ;  where  his  influence  insensibly  won  upon  the 
mind  and  heart  of  the  young  man,  so  that  he  became 
in  some  degree  involved  in  the  design  of  Dr.  Freeman 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  HIS  FATHER.         131 

to  associate  him  with  himself  as  a  colleague,  and  finally 
to  leave  the  labors  of  the  Chapel  pulpit  to  him.  He 
had  obtained  a  promise  from  him,  that,  with  the  consent 
of  his  father,  he  would  immediately  assist  him  in  reading 
the  Liturgy,  and,  as  soon  as  he  was  licensed,  he  would 
preach  in  his  desk.  When  these  circumstances  came 
to  the  ears  of  his  father,  they  probably  presented  the 
first  certain  confirmation  of  his  fears,  that  his  son  was 
imbibing  the  liberal  sentiments  of  Unitarians,  or  "  So- 
cinians,"  as  those  who  embraced  Dr.  Freeman's  views 
were  called.  Some  misgivings  naturally  arise  as  to 
the  wisdom  or  propriety  of  making  public  letters,  which, 
like  the  following,  revive  the  remembrance  of  an  ancient 
strife,  and  expose  feelings  and  fears  over  which  death 
has  sealed  its  calm  silence.  Such  documents  admit  of 
an  unfair  use  in  the  sectarian  strife  which  has  not  yet 
ceased.  But  generous  and  considerate  minds  will  ac 
company  their  perusal  with  a  candid  commentary,  and 
will  smooth  over  the  seeming  harshness  of  human  judg 
ments  with  the  gentler  spirit  of  Christian  charity,  which 
they  who  feel  their  own  need  of  it  will  ever  be  ready 
to  extend  to  the  sincere  and  good.  The  struggle  which 
is  to  be  exposed  between  earnest  and  serious  convic 
tions,  formed  through  thought,  study,  and  prayer,  and 
the  tender  sensibilities  of  filial  love,  grieved  even  by 
dissent  from  a  father's  opinions,  is  too  sacred  a  matter 
for  cold,  controversial  dispute.  The  revelations  here 
made  may  serve  as  an  intimation  of  the  gentler  feelings 
which  were  involved  in  the  more  passionate  and  conten 
tious  issues  opened  in  our  doctrinal  warfare. 

«  Dec.  3d,  1803. 
kt  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  have  seen  with  anxiety,  for  a  very 


132  CORRESPONDENCE    WITH    HIS    FATHER. 

considerable  time,  your  partiality  to  particular  persons,  and 
have  feared  that  your  happiness  would  depend  too  much 
upon  the  place  of  your  destination.  You  should  not  think 
any  persons  or  place  necessary  to  your  happiness.  You 
should  realize  that  the  Divine  favor  and  approbation  are 
the  great  prerequisites  to  happiness,  and  endeavour  to  be 
prepared  for  any  place  to  which  God  shall  call  you,  with  the 
manifest  tokens  of  his  favor.  If  your  years  and  experience 
were  such  as  to  render  it  prudent  to  settle  in  the  ministry, 
and  you  had  qualified  yourself  in  the  judgment  of  those 
who  license  candidates,  and  you  had  made  an  experiment 
of  your  gifts  in  less  splendid  and  populous  places  than 
Boston,  I  should  not  object  to  your  supplying  Brattle  Street 
desk,  as  they  have  desired  ;  though  I  think  the  situation  far 
from  eligible  for  a  young  minister  who  would  act  in  all 
things  with  a  wise  reference  to  the  account  which  he  must 
at  last  desire  to  give  l  with  joy,  and  not  with  grief.' 

"  As  to  the  manoeuvre  in  School  Street,  for  I  can  call 
it  nothing  else,  as  it  wears  a  singular  complexion,  so  it  ex 
cites  singular  emotions.  I  fear  you  have  suffered  your 
great  partiality  for  Mr.  Freeman  as  a  man  to  warp  your 
judgment  and  seduce  your  heart  respecting  some  of  the 
important  doctrines  of  our  holy  religion,  and  the  founda 
tion  of  our  hope  as  sinners.  Could  he  have  taken  such  a 
step,  unless  he  had  believed  it  would  be  agreeable  to  you  ? 
Could  he  have  been  so  ungenerous  as  to  reduce  you  to  the 
situation,  so  painful  to  your  feelings  as  a  son,  which  he  must 
have  known,  without  saying  any  thing  to  your  father  ?  I 
feel  myself  under  obligations  to  Mr.  Freeman  and  his 
family  for  kindness  to  me  in  past  days  of  distress ;  but  if 
they  are  to  be  cancelled  at  such  a  premium  as  the  delicacy 
of  conscience  of  my  son,  or  of  his  being  ensnared  into 
his  system  or  principles,  it  would  have  been  better  for  me 
to  have  died  without  their  sympathy.  Could  he  have  pro 
ceeded  so  far,  if  he  had  not  been  possessed  with  the  per- 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  HIS  FATHER.         133 

suasion  that  you  were  favorable  to  his  opinions  ?  —  opinions 
which,  in  my  view,  annihilate  the  hope  of  every  sinner,  and 
destroy  all  the  energy  of  the  Gospel  to  sanctify  and  renew 
the  soul.  Could  he  flatter  himself  that  a  descendant  of  the 
venerable  and  firm,  though  catholic,  Stevens,  and  the  inde 
pendent  and  honest  train  of  Buckminsters,  could  be  induced 
to  aid  in  the  support  of  sentiments  that  he  did  not  believe, 
or  that  he  was  so  pliant  that,  by  art  and  industry  and  flattery, 
he  could  be  moulded  into  any  thing  ?  I  confess,  my  son, 
I  feel  myself  hurt  by  this  business  ;  especially  that  Mr. 
Freeman,  considering  your  extreme  youth  and  your  rela 
tion  to  me,  should  take  such  a  step,  without  ever  hinting  one 
syllable  of  his  intentions  to  me.  I  can  excuse  him  upon  no 
other  principle,  than  that  he  has  never  known  what  the  heart 
of  a  parent  is.  I  hope  you  have  resolutely  and  finally 
stopped  their  proceedings.  Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes. 
If  not,  you  must  decline  their  proposal,  and"  at  once  excuse 
yourself  from  their  service.  If  Providence  should  spare  my 
life  and  yours,  and  give  me  any  leisure  from  my  present 
crowd  of  duty,  I  will  endeavour  to  devote  some  hours  to  you 
upon  this  subject." 

This  letter  enables  us  to  understand  the  entry  in  Jo 
seph's  journal,  of  December  22d,  1803  :  — 

"  Went  to  Newton,  [the  residence  of  Dr.  Freeman,] 
Thursday,  and  returned  on  Saturday.  This  has  been  a 
week  of  distress,  from  causes  which  I  hope  to  look  back 
upon  with  satisfaction.  O,  that  I  could  reconcile  the  com 
mands  of  conscience,  the  claims  of  parental  love,  and  the 
wishes  of  fond  and  partial  friends  !  Let  vanity  yield  to  pru 
dence  and  self-knowledge,  and  both  be  the  offspring  of  hu 
mility.  O  God,  enlighten  my  understanding,  purify  my 
desires,  increase  my  single  love  of  duty,  and  guide  my 
present  steps  ! '* 

12 


134  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Dr.  Buckminster  had  urged  upon  his  son  his  own  de 
sire  that  he  should  leave  Boston  at  this  time,  where  Mr. 
Lyrnan's  family  always  resided  in  the  winter,  and  place 
himself  under  the  instruction  of  Dr.  Lathrop  of  Spring 
field,  or  Dr.  Dana  of  Ipswich. 

He  writes  to  his  son  again,  December  27th,  1S03:  — 

"  I  was  in  hopes  that  before  this  time  you  had  left  Boston, 
to  which  I  fear  you  are  too  much  attached,  and  that  you 
think  a  residence  there  too  necessary  to  your  happiness. 

'  Fixed  to  no  place  is  happiness  sincere  ; 
'T  is  nowhere  to  be  found,  or  everywhere.' 

"  Our  happiness,  my  son,  must  be  the  result  of  doing  our 
duty,  of  submitting  to  God,  and  enjoying  'his  favor,  or  we 
should  be  wretched  in  palaces,  nay,  even  in  paradise.  I 
have  heard  nothing  from  you  since  I  recommended  your 
going  to.  Dr.  Lathrop's  to  spend  some  time.  I  think  your 
friends  judge  unwisely  for  you  and  for  themselves  by 
urging  you  to  preach,  and  especially  in  wishing  you  to 
settle  in  Boston.  Many  will  think  that  your  remaining 
there,  and  being  exposed  to  the  complimentary  remarks 
and  the  wishes  that  will  be  urged  upon  you,  is  an  indication 
of  your  desire  to  settle  there  ;  and  this  will  prejudice  many 
against  you,  and  give  them  a  distaste  for  your  services,  if 
you  should  in  future  be  called  to  preach  there.  Then,  after 
all  that  has  been  said  and  done,  if  your  preaching  should 
not  be  acceptable  in  Boston,  you  will,  I  fear,  be  mortified, 
and  perhaps  discouraged.  If  the  plan  I  proposed  had  been 
agreeable  to  you,  it  would  have  omened  well  for  you  ;  but  I 
can  do  no  more  than  advise,  and  refer  all  to  God. 

"  If  your  heart  is  really  possessed  with  the  fear  and  love 
of  God,  and  you  are  willing,  from  love  to  Christ  and  the 
souls  of  men,  to  be  a  partaker  of  the  afflictions  of  the  Gos 
pel,  and  to  be  a  laborer  in  any  part  of  God's  vineyard,  and 


CORRESPONDENCE.  135 

are  ready  to  offer  yourself,  you  had  perhaps  better  present 
yourself  for  examination ;  but  whenever  you  begin  to 
preach,  I  would  advise  you  not  to  begin  in  Boston.  I  pray 
God  to  have  you  in  his  holy  keeping." 

Thus  his  father  watched  every  avenue  to,  and  was  as 
solicitous  to  guard  the  delicacy  of,  his  son's  honor,  as 
he  was, careful  to  shield  him  from  disappointment,  and 
to  prevent  him  from  experiencing  the  least  mortification. 
The  next  subject  of  anxiety  is  the  application  for  the  son 
to  preach  at  Brattle  Street,  Boston. 

"  December  31st,  1803. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  have  treated  the  idea  of  your  preach 
ing  in  Boston,  or,  indeed,  preaching  anywhere,  at  present, 
as  mere  matters  of  Utopia ;  but  I  received  a  letter  this  week 
from  Judge  Sullivan  upon  the  subject,  in  which  he  seems  to 
think  there  would  be  no  inconvenience  or  impropriety  in 
your  beginning  in  Brattle  Street,  and  intimates  that  he  had 
suggested  it  to  you,  although  he  relieved  me  by  observing, 
that  you  did  not  give  him  any  encouragement,  or  receive  the 
matter  as  a  subject  of  serious  consideration. 

"  Although  I  have  supposed  that  you  had  thought  of  the 
ministry  as  a  profession,  and  it  is  perfectly  agreeable  to  me  that 
you  should  enter  it,  if  God  has  given  or  should  give  you  the 
necessary  qualifications,  yet,  considering  your  extreme  youth 
and  the  state  of  your  health,  I  have  wished  you  to  look  upon 
it  as  an  object  in  the  distant  future.  But  if  you  have  thought 
of  beginning  to  preach  any  time  within  these  six  months, 
you  should  resolve  to  reside  with  some  clergyman  whose 
company,  conversation,  and  ministerial  gifts  would  assist  and 
initiate  you  into  some  of  the  more  private,  as  well  as  public, 
offices  of  the  profession  ;  then,  when  it  shall  be  judged  pru 
dent  or  proper,  you  should  come  forward  in  some  more 
retired  place,  certainly  not  begin  in  the  metropolis  of  New 


136  CORRESPONDENCE. 

England.  It  is  better  tp  have  it  said  to  us,  c  Come  up  higher,' 
than  to  have  it  said,  '  Go  down  lower.'  I  hope  you  will  not 
consent  to  that  which  has  at  least  the  appearance  of  vanity, 
by  making  your  first  attempt  in  Boston,  —  that  your  friends 
will  not  urge  it,  and  that  you  will  not  permit  them  to  -urge  it. 
"  You  know,  my  dear  son,  that  it  has  always  been  my 
opinion  that  it  would  be  best  for  you,  as  I  think  it  is  for 
every  student  in  divinity,  to  spend  some  time  with  an  ap 
proved  and  respectable  clergyman  before  he  begins  preach 
ing  ;  and  I  hope  you  will  take  some  measures  to  study  awhile 
with  Dr.  Lathrop  of  Springfield.  As  to  your  qualifications 
for  examination,  I  have  no  doubt  you  would  acquit  yourself 
so  as  to  obtain  approbation,  and  if  I  were  as  certain  of  your 
having  those  qualifications  for  the  ministry  which  God  only 
can  give,  as  of  your  having  those  which  are  attained  by 
human  industry  and  application,  I  should  not  object  to  your 
offering  yourself  for  examination.  But  you  would  come 
with  fairer  prospects  from  under  the  wing,  and  with  the  coun 
tenance,  of  some  respectable  clergyman,  than  from  your 
present  residence.  I  hope  God  will  be  your  guide  and 
guardian,  and  if  he  designs  you  for  a  laborer  in  his  Vineyard 
he  will  furnish  you  and  send  you  forth.  Let  us  hear  from 
you  soon.  Your  affectionate,  but  anxious  father, 

"  J.  BUCKMINSTER." 

We  have  seen  that  Judge  Sullivan  consulted  both 
father  and  son  upon  the  'subject  of  the  son's  preaching 
at  Brattle  Street,  in  December,  1803.  The  next  step 
was,  that  a  committee  of  the  Brattle  Street  Church  ad 
dressed  themselves  to  the  son,  in  the  beginning  of  March, 
1804,  urging  him  to  make  his  first  trial  there.  Upon 
which  his  father  writes  :  — 

"March  19th,  1804. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  You  have  long  had  my  opinion  and 
advice  ;  nor  have  I  seen  any  reason  to  alter  them ;  and 


LETTER  UPON  PREACHING  AT  BRATTLE  STREET.    137 

though  not  delivered  in  that  peremptory  and  absolute  way 
that  used  to  be  the  custom  in  the  treatment  of  children,  they 
were  no  less  decided.  If  my  advice  had  been  regarded,  and 
you  had  passed  the  winter  at  Springfield  or  Ipswich,  you 
would  have  escaped  your  perplexities,  and  would  have  been 
in  greater  readiness  to  meet  the  application  of  the  Brattle 
Street  Church.  I  should  now  advise  you  to  place  yourself 
with  one  of  those  gentlemen,  and  tell  the  committee  in  Bos 
ton,  that,  as  soon  as  your  instructor  thought  proper  to  bring 
you  forward,  you  would  commence  preaching.  It  is,  indeed, 
absurd  for  them  to  fix  their  eyes  only  upon  you. 

"  If  you  are  qualified  to  begin  to  preach,  the  train  of  your 
preparation  has  been  a  little  singular,  and  you  must  como 
upon  the  stage  under  that  disadvantage.  I  can  do  nothing 
for  you,  my  dear  son,  in  the  perplexed  and  embarrassed 
state  of  my  family.  If  your  mother  were  not  so  ill,  I  should 
desire  you  to  return  home ;  but  her  situation  is  such  as  to  de 
mand  all  my  attention,  beside  the  family  being  so  encum 
bered  with  nurses  that  little  study  could  be  done  here.  If 
you  cannot  reconcile  it  to  your  feelings  to  go  to  either 
of  the  gentlemen  I  have  mentioned,  why  cannot  you  re 
side  a  little  while  with  Dr.  Morse  or  with  Mr.  Homer  of 
Newton  ? 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  see  some  of  your  essays  or  disserta 
tions  upon  some  doctrinal  points,  if  you  have  written  any  ;  it 
would  enable  me  better  to  judge  of  your  ripeness  for  your 
public  appearance.  But,  whatever  you  do,  ask  counsel  of 
God,  and  rest  yourself  upon  his  mercy." 

Upon  this  request  of  his  father,  Joseph  went  to 
Portsmouth,  and,  in  various  conversations  with  him,  the 
painful  doubts  of  the  son  upon  those  points  of  doctrine 
which  the  Calvinistic  theology  deems  necessary  for  ac 
ceptance  with  God  became  apparent.  The  son  says, 
in  his  private  journal,  that  he  could  never  dispute  or 
12* 


138  DIFFERENCES    IN    RELIGIOUS    SENTIMENT. 

argue  with  his  father  ;  that  such  was  his  tenderness  for 
him,  and*  his  habit  of  implicit  acquiescence  in  all  his 
wishes,  that  disputing  was  as  impossible  as  it  would  have 
been  to  have  disobeyed  his  orders  in  his  childhood. 
But  when  it  came  to  direct  question  and  answer,  the 
candor  and  honesty  of  the  son  would  not  permit  him  to 
make  use  of  any  concealment  or  mental  reservation. 

The  father  was  at  this  time  oppressed  by  family  cares 
and  anxieties.  The  long  and  dangerous  illness  of  his 
beloved  wife  was  drawing  rapidly  to  a  fatal  termination, 
leaving  him  with  a  young  and  almost  helpless  family,  so 
that,  when  the  fact  of  his  son's  departure  from  what  he 
believed  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints  came  with 
conviction  to  his  heart,  it  is  not  strange  that  he  was 
nearly  overwhelmed.  In  the  letters  that  follow,  he  seems 
to  have  forgotten  the  ripening  excellences  of  his  son's 
character,  the  comfort  he  had  already  enjoyed  in  his 
docility,  and  the  confidence  he  felt  in  the  manliness  of 
his  character,  and,  because  a  certain  speculative  faith  was 
wanting,  to  have  regarded  all  the  rest,  to  use  his  own 
expression,  as  cc  only  filthy  rags." 

This  difference  in  religious  sentiment  was  probably 
the  severest  trial  to  both  that  they  could  have  met  with 
in  the  unclouded  confidence,  the  transparent  openness  of 
intercourse,  that  existed  between  them.  Although  it  is 
proper  for  the  memorial  of  both  that  the  correspond 
ence  should  not  be  withheld,  yet,  as  they  were  both  of 
one  spirit,  both  loved  their  Divine  Master  supremely, 
this  difference  of  their  faith  respecting  him  never  for  a 
moment  impaired  their  love  to  him,  or  to  each  other. 
They  could  never  be  far  apart,  for  they  stood  upon  the 
same  ground  of  intimate  conviction  of  the  greatest  and 
most  important  truths.  God  was  next  the  heart  of  both. 


JOSEPH'S  FIRST  SERMON,  AT  YORK.  139 

But  the  one  belonged  to  a  particular  system  ;  he  was 
trammelled  by  a  theory,  and  he  feared  that  his  son  would 
be  bewildered  and  lost,  were  he  not  also  bound  by  the 
faith  of  ancient  creeds.  Both  possessed  the  same  prin 
ciple  of  inward,  spiritual  life.  It  came  from  the  same 
source  ;  it  conformed  both  in  thought,  temper,  and  ac 
tion  to  the  inward  oracle  of  right  ;  in  both  it  led  to  dis- 
intei*ested  love  of  man,  —  to  high  endeavour  for  the  good 
of  others  ;  it  gave  strength  to  suffer  to  the  one  ;  it  gave 
humility  to  bear  success  to  the  other.  It  has  been  said 
that  it  came  from  the  same  source  ;  to  continue  the  meta 
phor,  one  drank  it  from  the  iron  pipes  in  which  man  had 
bent  and  checked  the  stream,  the  other  from  the  pure, 
freshly  flowing  river.  We  may  believe  that  both  were 
channels  of  God's  blessings  to  others,  each  performing 
services  equally  acceptable  in  his  sight. 

Upon  this  visit  at  Portsmouth,  Joseph  preached  his 
first  sermon,  at  York,  in  the  pulpit  of  his  venerable  rela 
tive,  Mr.  Lyman,  the  father  of  his  step-mother.  He 
was  disabled  from  preaching,  and  had  long  been  con 
fined  to  the  house  by  a  palsy ;  but  upon  this  occasion 
he  once  more  ascended,  with  tottering  steps,  the  pulpit 
stairs,  to  listen  to  his  young  relative.  The  occasion 
and  scene  were  made  striking  by  the  extremely  youthful 
appearance  of  the  young  preacher,  his  beautiful  counte 
nance  radiant  with  genius  and  the  expression  of  elevated 
thought,  and  that  of  the  aged  minister,  whose  white  hairs 
were  covered  with  a  velvet  cap,  and  who  could  not  even 
rise  when  the  prayer  was  offered  for  him,  that  his 
trembling  steps  might  be  gently  supported  through  the 
short  descending  path  to  the  grave.  They  presented 
almost  the  extremes  of  life  meeting  in  one  common  pe 
tition,  for  there  were  some  present  who  thought  the  life 


140  THE    ANCIENT    MEETING-HOUSE 

of  the  younger  more  frail  and  tremulous  than  even  that 
of  the  aged  pastor. 

There  was  a  circumstance  which  the  writer  well  re 
members.  Joseph,  in  reading  the  chapter  from  Scrip 
ture,  omitted  a  word,  or  substituted  a  different  meaning 
of  some  word,  which  the  elder  minister  instantly  cor 
rected,  by  calling  out  in  full  voice  the  received  reading  ; 
the  other  slightly  smiled  and  went  on. 

This  meeting-house  and  congregation  of  Old  York 
were  both  among  the  most  ancient  and  primitive  in  the 
country.  The  venerable  old  building  is  now  replaced 
by  a  modern  structure,  with  slips  within,  and  white  paint 
without.  The  ancient  building  was  perfect  in  its  icono- 
clasm.  The  square,  oaken  pews,  polished  and  dark 
with  age,  were  guiltless  of  all  carpet,  cushion,  or  se 
ductive  invitation  to  wandering  thoughts  ;  the  beams  of 
the  ceiling  were  formed  of  heavy  timber,  roughhewn 
into  form.  Beneath  the  pulpit  was  an  inclosed  seat  for 
the  elders,  two  hoary-headed  old  men,  with  long,  waving 
locks.  Upon  the  corner  of  these  seats  the  old  frame 
for  the  hour-glass  kept  its  place,  the  sands  long  since 
run  out  and  motionless.  In  front  of  these  was  another 
square  inclosed  seat  for  the  deacons,  and  facing  them, 
upon  the  floor  of  the  meeting-house,  were  seats  for  the 
singers.  Within  the  childish  memory  of  the  writer,  the 
hymn  was  given  out  two  lines  at  a  lime,  and  sung  with 
pauses  breaking  the  harmony  of  the  verses.  In  each 
pew,  close  to  the  mother's  elbow,  was  the  little  wooden 
cage,  where  the  youngest  child,  still  too  young  to  sit  alone, 
was  for  twro  long  hours  an  infant  prisoner. 

Primitive  as  was  the  church,  the  congregation  also 
retained  its  Puritan  aspect,  as  they  arrived,  one  family 
after  the  other,  from  their  old  farm-houses  among  the 


AND  CONGREGATION  OF  OLD  YORK.         141 

hills.  The  wife,  the  sister,  or  the  betrothed  dismounted 
at  the  old  oaken  block,  close  to  the  meeting-house  door, 
from  behind  her  cavalier  ;  and  the  old  family  horse  pa 
tiently  took  his  position  outside,  till  the  long  service  was 
over.  The  old  sexton  in  the  porch,  rope  in  hand,  and 
arrayed  in  his  cocked  hat,  waited  anxiously  for  the  pas 
tor  ;  when,  quitting  the  bell,  he  preceded  him,  hat  in 
hand,  to  the  pulpit  stairs,  and  then,  when  the  door  was 
closed,  respectfully  took  his  seat.  All  these  ancient  cus 
toms  passed  away  from  our  manners  even  before  the  Pu 
ritan  meeting-houses  disappeared  from  the  landscape. 

The  letters  that  follow  were  written  immediately  after 
Joseph's  visit  to  Portsmouth.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that 
so  few  of  the  son's  replies  have  been  preserved. 

«  June  25,  1804. 

"  MY  UNHAPPY  SON,  —  I  can  pity  you  and  pray  for  you, 
but  I  know  not  how  to  help  you,  preparing  to  be  a  minister 
of  Christ,  an  ambassador  of  God,  preparing  to  pull  down  the 
strongholds  of  sin,  to  turn  sinners  from  darkness  to  light, 
and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  and  yet  believing 
that  your  Master  is  only  a  created  being,  or  a  delegated  ''~£\ 
messenger  of  Deity  !  How  faint  must  be  your  hope  of  suc 
cess,  how  weak  your  expectations,  how  fallacious  your  con 
fidence, —  striving  to  reconcile  sinners  to  God,  and  yet  pre 
senting  them  with  no  other  righteousness  as  the  ground  of 
their  hope  of  pardon  and  justification  but  their  own,  which 
is  but  as  filthy  rags  !  An  awakened  conscience  will  never 
get  ease  upon  such  ground.  Nor  will  the  Church  of  Christ 
be  ever  built  up  where  the  doctrine  of  justification  is  not 
among  the  fundamental  principles  that  are  taught.  A 
worldly  church  may  be  built ;  men  may  be  formed  to  ex 
ternal  decency  and  order,  but -the  corrupt  fountain  of  the 
heart  will  never  be  cleansed,  nor  the  soul  formed  to  be  a 


142  CORRESPONDENCE 

habitation  of  God,  where  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  atonement 
is  disowned,  or  where  it  is  not  made  the  ground  and  cause 
of  communicating  grace  to  men. 

"  You  ask  my  advice  when  it  is  too  late  to  give  it.  You 
should  have  listened  when  I  urged  your  studying  with  some 
clergyman  last  winter.  You  have  never  had  any  proper 
education  for  the  ministry,  and  will  feet  the  inconvenience 
of  it  all  your  days.  I  would  now  urge  your  immediately 
going  to  Springfield,  were  it  not  that  I  hear  Dr.  Lathrop  is 
not  in  a  situation  to  take  pupils ;  but  if  you  can  be  released 
from  Mr.  Ly man's  family,  I  would  advise  you  to  go  to  Dr. 
Morse,  or  Dr.  Dana  of  Ipswich,  or  to  come  home. 

"  As  to  preaching,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  extricate 
yourself.  Your  friends  have  committed  you,  by  binding 
you  to  a  promise  to  preach  at  such  a  time.  If  the  commit 
tee  of  Brattle  Street,  or  of  any  other  church,  should  apply 
to  you  with  the  view  of  hearing  you  in  order  to  a  settlement, 
I  advise  you,  as  an  honest  man,  (and  this  you  seem  desirous 
to  be,)  to  tell  them  plainly  that  you  do  not  believe  in  the 
proper  Deity  and  Divinity  of  Christ,  nor  in  his  vicarious  sat 
isfaction  and  atonement  for  the  sins  of  men,  and  I  presume 
they  will  trouble  you  no  more  ;  or  if  they  should,  neverthe 
less,  urge  you  to  preach,  I  advise  you,  in  your  first  sermon, 
to  be  explicit  upon  those  points,  and  not  make  use  of  any 
concealments  or  expressions  that  may  mean  any  thing  or 
nothing.  This  will  decide  the  matter  with  you  ;  you  will 
be  able  easily  to  relinquish  your  profession  ;  for  I  cannot 
believe  that  the  churches  of  Christ  are  so  removed  from  the 
foundation  of  the  Apostles,  and  have  so  lost  the  principles 
of  the  Reformation,  that  they  would  settle  ministers  who 
deny  the  Divinity  of  the  Head  of  the  Church,  or  the  price  at 
which  it  has  been  purchased  and  redeemed.  If,  therefore, 
you  preach  where  you  have  any  reason  to  suppose  the  peo 
ple  hear  you  with  a  view  to  settlement,  be  open  and  ex 
plicit. 


UrON    THEOLOGICAL    DOCTRINES.  143 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  judge  another  man's  servant,  nor  to 
judge  my  own  son,  but  I  desire  to  receive  it  as  a  humiliating 
rebuke  from  my  Lord  and  Master,  that  he  should  so  far  con 
ceal  from  you  what  appears  to  me  the  great,  important,  and 
eternal  truth,  and  pervert  your  judgment  from  the  simplicity 
that  is  in  Christ.  O  that  I  may  be  removed  from  every  idol 
but  God  !  Your  mamma  is  very  ill.  To  God  I  commend 
her  and  you,  and  trust  he  will  give  his  grace  to  all.  I  know 
he  will  be  glorified  in  us,  whatever  be  our  life  here  or  our 
situation  hereafter." 

The  son  now  informs  his  father  that  he  has  engaged 
to  preach,  the  succeeding  Sabbath,  at  Waltham,  for  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Gushing.  After  some  domestic  information, 
the  father  replies:  — 

"July  7,  1804. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  As  to  the  unpleasant  situation  to  which 
you  have  reduced  yourself,  pledged  as  you  are  to  preach, 
I  know  not  what  to  say.  Indeed,  you  have  always  been  so 
reserved  with  respect  to  your  opinions,  jthat  I  know  not  what 
you  do  believe,  or  what  you  would  preach  and  say  to  your 
fellow-men.  How  you  can  doubt  those  doctrines  that  lie 
at  the  foundation  of  all  the  hopes  of  Christians  I  know  not, 
except  from  an  injudicious  course  of  reading.  I  am  per 
suaded  you  will  think  differently  upon  these  doctrines  when 
you  come  to  have  more  acquaintance  with  your  own  heart 
and  the  hearts  of  others,  and  when  you  read  the  Scriptures 
with  this  impression,  which  is  certainly  a  just  one,  that  they 
were  designed  as  a  rule  of  faith  and  practice  to  men  in 
general,  to  the  unlearned  as  well  as  the  learned,  to  those 
that  are  incapable  of  criticizing  no  less  than  to  those  who 
by  subtilty  of  reasoning  make  plain  things  intricate  and 
dark  things  plausible.  Certainly  the  doctrine  of  the  Trin 
ity,  as  it  is  usually  received,  the  Divinity  of  the  Saviour, 
and  his  propitiatory  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  men,  by  whose 


144  CORRESPONDENCE. 

righteousness  we  are  justified  and  by  whose  grace  we  are 
sanctified,  are  the  most  plain  doctrines  of  Scripture,  and 
those  who  deny  them  are  obliged  to  explain  away  the  word 
of  God  in  order,  with  any  show  of  plausibility,  to  support 
their  doctrine  by  the  word  of  God.  I  am  sorry  you  have 
pledged  yourself  to  preach.  Read  Dr.  Bates's  Harmony  of 
the  Divine  Attributes  in  the  Work  of  the  Redemption,  and 
put  yourself  under  the  instruction  of  some  learned  and 
pious  divine.  Open  your  perplexities  and  difficulties  to 
him,  but  above  all  pray  to  God  to  guide  you  into  all  truth, 
and  to  keep  you  from  wounding  his  honor  and  his  cause." 

The  son  replies  as  follows.  Would  that  we  had  more 
of  his  filial  letters  ! 

"  Waltham,  July  23,  1804. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  received  last  night  a  letter  from 
Judge  Sullivan,  as  chairman  of  the  Brattle  Street  commit 
tee,  inquiring  whether  they  might  expect  me,  and  at  what 
time,  if  any,  I  would  engage  to  supply  them.  I  should 
have  answered  by  letter,  but  Mr.  Lyman  thinks  1  had  better 
see  him,  which  I  shall  do  to-morrow,  and  endeavour  to  pre 
clude  all  expectation  of  hearing  me,  and  all  hope  of  any 
future  consent  to  their  wishes. 

"  You  express  your  surprise  at  my  ever  having  thought 
of  preaching  with  such  sentiments  as  I  entertain.  I  do  not 
exactly  know  what  sentiments  you  suppose  me  to  hold  ;  but 
I  have  always  considered  it  to  be  the  object  of  the  Chris 
tian  dispensation  to  lead  men  to  virtue  and  holiness,  and 
that  this  also  ought  to  be  the  great  object  of  its  ministers. 
To  this  end  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  are  auxiliary  as 
means  or  motives,  without  any  intrinsic  value  in  themselves, 
or  in  the  acknowledgment  of  them,  except  so  far  as  they 
lead  to  this  great  end,  the  promotion  of  Christian  excellence. 
Tf,  then,  I  could  believe  that  this  great  end  could  be  attained 
without  insisting  upon  Jesus  Christ  being  the  most  high  God, 


CORRESPONDENCE.  145 

I  felt  no  scruple  on  this  score  in  endeavouring  to  bear  a 
small  share  in  this  honorable  employment.  If  circumstances 
should  occur  which  would  make  it  proper  or  necessary  for 
me  to  make  an  explicit  avowal  on  this  head  I  would  be 
prepared  to  meet  them  ;  but  if  they  should  not,  I  conceived 
it  to  be  my  first  duty  to  recommend  holiness  by  motives 
which  I  could  honestly  urge,  and  leave  my  opinions  upon 
disputed  points  to  the  private  inquiries  of  my  hearers.  I 
wished  not  to  deny  other  men's  belief,  but  only  to  be  ex 
cused  from  preaching  what  did  not  make  a  part  of  my  own. 
Even  under  such  circumstances  I  hoped,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  to  prove  a  servant  not  entirely  unprofitable.  ,  I  did  not 
foresee,  in  its  utmost  extent,  the  pain  which  my  skepticism 
on  some  points  would  give  you,  and  I  trusted,  perhaps,  too 
much  to  the  influence  of  time,  and  to  the  tenderness  of  the 
parental  relation. 

"  If,  however,  as  seems  now  to  be  the  case,  you  think  that 
son  unfit  to  be  a  preacher  who,  without  supposing  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  the  Most  High  God,  believes  that  he  is  an  illus 
trious  person,  enjoying  a  most  intimate  communion  with 
God,  and  possessing  a  peculiar  relation  to  him,  (a  relation 
which  we  can  perhaps  never  justly  understand,)  constituted 
also  our  infallible  guide  in  faith  and  practice,  and  exalted 
to  be  the  dispenser  of  all  spiritual  blessings,  and  the  future 
judge  of  mankind  ;  —  if  also,  in  your  opinion,  it  is  not  suf 
ficient  for  the  purposes  of  Christian  obedience,  and  of 
love  ajid  gratitude  to  Christ's  character,  to  consider  his 
death  as  the  highest  act  of  his  obedience  and  suffering 
for  the  benefit  of  sinful  man,  and  as  the  ground  on  which 
God  chooses  to  dispense  his  pardon  to  the  penitent,  without 
(Considering  it  as  an  infinite  satisfaction  for  the  offended  jus 
tice  of  God,  separate  from  which  God  could  not  or  would 
not  pardon  sin  ; —  if  such,  I  say,  be  the  nature  of  your  views 
on  this  subject,  actum  est  de  pr&dicatione. 

"  But  I  have  already  written   and    thought  on  this  sub- 
13 


146  CORRESPONDENCE. 

ject  almost  to  distraction.  You  will  no  doubt  say,  my 
father,  that  I  should  have  taken  your  advice  last  winter,  and 
put  myself  under  the  tuition  of  some  clergyman.  Perhaps 
I  ought.  No  doubt  many  of  the  perplexities  of  my  present 
situation  would  have  been  avoided,  but  others  would  per 
haps  have  arisen,  and  the  principal  one  might  not  have  been 
removed.  Besides,  in  declining  your  proposal,  I  had  the 
universal  sentiment  of  my  friends  here  in  my  favor.  Now, 
it  appears  to  me  there  is  little  difference  between  relinquish 
ing  the  profession  entirely,  and  committing  myself  to  the 
instruction  of  any  clergyman  under  the  uncertain  hope  of 
attaining  at  last  to  those  views  of  Christain  truth  which  you 
deem  essential. 

"  I  have  employed  almost  every  day  since  my  return 
from  Portsmouth  in  reading  the  most  orthodox  works  on 
this  subject,  Edwards,  Jamieson,  Ridgely,  etc.,  and  from 
what  I  know  of  the  state  of  my  own  mind  I  despair  of 
ever  giving  my  assent  to  the  proposition  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  God,  equal  to  the  Father.  I  have  been  thus  explicit  to 
you,  my  dear  Sir,  that,  whatever  may  be  my  future  lot,  I  may 
still  retain  the  consciousness  of  having  preferred  the  relin- 
quishment  of  any  prospect  of  fame  arid  preferment  to  the 
slightest  evasion  or  hypocrisy  upon  subjects  deemed  by 
you  so  important.  If  this  letter  have  any  thing  of  a  pre 
sumptuous  or  dogmatical  air,  I  pray  you  to  forgive  it,  as  it 
has  arisen  from  the  desire  not  to  be  misunderstood. 

"  It  is  probable  that  I  might  get  a  tutorship  at  college ;  this 
would  be  congenial  to  my  pursuits,  and  it  is  not  probable  that 
I  shall  live  to  grow  a  burden  upon  their  hands.  I  rejoice 
to  hear  that  mamma  is  better.  If  you  can  only  satisfy  your 
self  that  I  do  not  cease  to  be  a  subject  of  the  grace  of  Goo1 
when  I  cease  to  be  a  Trinitarian,  and  let  not  this  disappoint 
ment  prey  upon  your  mind,  I  may  still  be  useful  and  happy. 

"Your  dear  son, 

"J.  S.  B." 


CORRESPONDENCE.  147 

The  sympathy  of  a  reader  is  strongly  enlisted  alike  for 
the  father  and  son,  in  this  their  mutual  confidence,  which 
nothing  impaired  on  the  part  of  the  son,  and  which 
yielded  on  the  part  of  the  parent  only  to  a  most  cher 
ished  conviction  of  the  supreme  importance  of  specu 
lative  opinions.  What  an  exhibition  have  we  here  of 
the  different  offices  of  the  heart  and  mind  in  settling 
the  essentials  of  Christian  belief! 

To  the  foregoing  honest  and  explicit  letter  the  father 
returned  answer  :  — 

"  July  30,  1804. 

"  MY  UNHAPPY  SON,  —  If  you  are  fixed  and  settled  in 
the  sentiment  that  Jesus  Christ  is  not  a  Divine  person,  nor 
any  thing  more  than  a  created  messenger  of  God,  and  that 
the  business  of  his  coming  into  the  world  was  only  to  pub 
lish  truth,  and  to  attest  the  truth  that  he  published  with  his 
blood,  and  give  hope  and  confirmation  of  a  resurrection, 
but  not  to  make  atonement  and  satisfaction  for  sin,  and  if 
there  is  no  hope  of  your  having  different  views  upon  these 
points,  it  is  best  for  you  to  think  of  some  other  profession 
than  the  ministry ;  you  had  better  be  a  porter  on  the  wharf 
than  a  preacher  with  such  views. 

"  You  are  young  enough  to  turn  your  attention  to  the 
study  of  law,  or  to  the  theory  and  practice  of  physic.  I  ad 
vise  you  never  to  be  a  preacher  with  such  an  opinion  of  my 
Master  and  his  system,  as  a  denial  of  his  Divinity  and  his 
atonement  necessarily  involve.  I  do  not  doubt,  my  son,  that 
men  have  had  the  real  consolations  of  the  Gospel  who  have 
held  different  views  of  many  religious  truths,  nor  that  men 
have  had  serenity  of  mind  in  holding  the  grossest  errors. 
But  the  consolations  of  the  Gospel  cannot  be  enjoyed  by  those 
who  destroy  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  tlie  Gospel,  and 
he  who  does  not  build  upon  Christ  as  the  foundation  of  all 
hope,  and  upon  his  blood  as  the  price  of  purchase,  and  the 


148  CORRESPONDENCE. 

blood  of  cleansing  from  all  sin,  can  have  no  solid  hope  of 
salvation.  Could  you  have  been  persuaded  to  follow  a 
different  course  of  study,  it  appears  to  me  these  difficulties 
would  have  been  avoided ;  but  I  have  thought  it  my  duty 
to  advise,  rather  than  to  insist,  and  if  God  should  blast  the 
fond  hopes  that  I  have  entertained  respecting  you,  he  will 
be  righteous.  I  desire  to  give  up  all  into  his  hands :  my 
wife,  my  children,  and  my  own  soul." 

Upon  the  receipt  of  which  letter  the  son  writes  in 
his  private  journal  :  — u  O  God,  assist,  guide,  and  di 
rect  me  what  course  of  life  to  pursue  !  Save  me  from 
prejudice,  from  indifference,  from  ambition,  and  from 
worldly  views." 

And  to  his  father  he  writes  thus  :  — 

"  August  10th,  1804. 

"  My  DEAR  FATHER,  —  Your  last  letter  appears  to  be  final 
upon  the  subject  of  my  preaching ;  but  as  I  have  already 
made  an  engagement  to  preach  for  Dr.  Gushing,  my  ser 
mon  may  also  be  a  valedictory.  It  would  be  more  con 
genial  to  my  feelings  and  pursuits  to  be  a  tutor  at  the 
College  than  to  study  either  of  the  professions  you  men 
tion.  My  tastes  are  literary,  and  as.  I  am  not  ambitious  of 
riches,  the  salary,  together  with  my  own  little  fortune,* 
would  be  amply  sufficient,  even  if  my  health  should  fail 
before  the  term  of  my  existence. 

"  I  cannot  conceal  from  myself  and  from  you,  that  this 
termination  of  the  expectations  of  friends,  and,  may  I  not 
add  without  vanity,  of  the  ample  preparation  I  have  made 
for  my  profession,  is  a  severe  disappointment  of  my  fondest 
hopes.  Yet  the  preparation  may  not  be  altogether  lost. 
If  God  should  spare  my  life,  I  may  be  able  to  do  some- 

*  Left  him  by  his  maternal  grandfather,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Stevens. 


LETTER    TO    MR.    SIDNEY   WILLARD.  149 

thing  in  diffusing  a  deeper  love  of  intellectual  pursuits,  and 
a  purer  taste  among  young  persons  of  my  own  age  ;  and 
the  malady  with  which  God  has  visited  me  is  a  perpetual 
warning  to  me  that  I  have  no  right  to  expect  a  long  life. 

"  You  must  permit  me  to  differ  from  you  in  the  propriety 
of  declaring  my  views  from  the  pulpit.  I  shall  always  be 
ready  to  give  an  answer  to  private  inquiries,  but  I  conceive 
that  it  would  be  only  an  arrogan-t  assumption  for  the  young 
est  of  preachers  to  intrude  upon  a  mixed  audience  views 
that  might  be  startling,  that  perhaps  are  not  yet  matured ; 
and  although  I  see  no  expectation  of  my  ever  becoming  a 
Trinitarian,  further  investigation  may  modify  what  is  now 
the  subject  of  incessant  thought  and  constant  prayer. 
"  Your  affectionate  son, 

"J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER." 

That  Joseph  was  entirely  sincere  in  his  intention  of 
relinquishing,  out  of  respect  to  his  father,  the  profes 
sion  of  his  choice  appears  from  a  letter  written,  but  per 
haps  not  sent,  to  Mr.  Sidney  Willard,  the  Librarian  of 
Harvard  College. 

"  Dec.,  1803. 

u  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  should  have  given  myself  the  pleasure  of 
waiting  upon  you  a  second  time  before  you  left  Portsmouth, 
but  I  was  not  only  unwilling  to  interrupt  you  while  taking 
leave  of  your  friends,  but  the  subject  upon  which  I  wished 
to  speak  with  you  was  in  some  degree  private.  You  will 
recollect  that  I  then  took  the  liberty  of  asking  you,  if  you 
intended  to  leave  your  present  situation  at  Cambridge.  I 
should  not  have  been  so  impertinent  as  to  propose  the  ques 
tion,  except  that  I  had  heard  it  mentioned  from  several  quar 
ters  that  such  was  your  intention,  which  I  was  the  more 
induced  to  believe,  from  knowing  that  you  had  been  for  some 
time  engaged  in  preaching.  I  sometimes  indulge  my  in 
clination  for  a  residence  at  Cambridge,  and  the  office  of 
13* 


150         PROPOSED  CHANGE  OF  PROFESSION. 

Librarian  I  have  always  thought  would  be  most  accommo 
dated  to  the  pursuit  of  my  favorite  objects.  Perhaps  it  is 
presumptuous  in  me  to  expect  ever  to  attain  it ;  at  best,  my 
prospect  of  success  is  so  uncertain,  that  I  have  been  induced 
to  give  you  this  intimation  of  my  wishes,  presuming  that 
you  will  not  think  it  impertinent  in  me  to  suggest  them. 
If  your  intention  of  leaving  Cambridge  depend  upon  cir 
cumstances  at  present  doubtful,  you  will  greatly  oblige  me 
by  giving  me  notice  of  your  determination  whenever  it  is 
decidedly  formed.  I  will  take  the  liberty,  also,  of  requesting 
you  to  inform  me  whether  any  application  for  the  office 
has  yet  been  made.  If  my  request  should  appear  to  you 
in  any  degree  improper,  I  must  beg  your  pardon  for  troub 
ling  you  with  this  letter." 


CHAPTER    X. 

CHARACTER    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER's    PREACHING.  EXTRACTS 

FROM    HIS    SERMONS.  LETTERS. 

DR.  BUCKMINSTER  had  now  been  settled  in 
Portsmouth  twenty-four  years,  and  during  that 
time  he  had  been  pursuing  the  usual  quiet  routine  of  the 
duties  of  a  parish  minister,  varied  and  rendered  more  than 
.usually  interesting  by  the  state  of  the  public  mind  in  this 
transition  period  of  the  country.  The  country  was  then 
passing  through  those  momentous  evrents  which  finally 
established  its  prosperity  ;  but  while  they  were  in  prog 
ress,  they  deeply  agitated  the  minds  of  all  men,  and 
laid  upon  public  instructors  a  double  weight  of  respon 
sibility.  It  was  then  deemed  proper,  even  indispensable, 
that  ministers  should  preach  upon  all  subjects  of  public 
and  political  interest,  expressing  their  individual  opin 
ions  with  moderation,  but  with  decision  and  independ 
ence  ;  and  it  sometimes  happened  that  ihey  did  not  con 
fine  themselves  to  the  bounds  of  moderation.  There 
were  at  this  time  very  few  newspapers, —  no  reading- 
rooms  ;  the  public  press  was  just  beginning  to  be  the 
important  instrument  of  good  and  of  evil  which  it  has 
since  become,  and  the  preaching  of  the  ministers,  at 

*  This  year  the  degree  of  Doctor  in  Divinity  was  conferred  upon 
Mr.  Buckminster  by  the  College  of  New  Jersey. 


152          PREACHING  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER. 

least  in  country  places,  was  one  of  the  great  means  of 
instructing  and  informing  the  people  in  political  affairs, 
as  well  as  in  religious  duties. 

Since  the  period  df  Dr.  Buckminster's  settlement  at 
Portsmouth,  the  treaty  had  been  concluded  which  fin 
ished  the  war  and  established  the  independence  of  the 
country.  The  terrible  depression  of  public  credit  which 
followed,  and  all  the  distressing  embarrassments  of  the 
period,  he  bore,  together  with  his  faithful  parish,  waiting 
for  better  times  for  the  full  payment  of  his  moderate 
salary.  The  adoption  of  the  Constitution  ;  the  choice  of 
rulers,  and  of  Washington  as  the  first  President  ;  his  visit 
to  Portsmouth  ;  his  retirement  from  the  Presidency  ;  the 
choice  of  John  Adams  ;  the  death  of  Washington,  and 
the  subsequent  celebration  of  his  birthday  and  also  the 
commemoration  of  the  day  of  his  death,  were  signal  oc-" 
casions,  upon  all  of  which  Dr.  Buckminster  preached 
sermons  which  his  hearers  thought  worthy  of  more 
extensive  circulation,  and  at  their  request  they  were 
printed. 

A  sermon,  preached  by  him  at  the  time  of  the  visit 
of  Washington  to  the  Eastern  States,  subjected  him, 
from  those  who  did  not  hear  it,  to  severe  censure.  Dr. 
Buckminster  was  not  informed  till  late  on  Saturday  that 
the  illustrious  guest  would  worship  at  his  church  in  the 
forenoon,  and  the  sermon  was  prepared  in  haste  from 
Psalm  xxiv.  7,  8  :  —  "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates, 
and  be  ye  lifted  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King 
of  Glory  shall  come  in.  Who  is  this  King  of  Glory  ? 
The  Lord  strong  and  mighty  ;  the  Lord  mighty  in 
battle." 

Perhaps  the  selection  of  the  text  was  unfortunate  ; 
but  to  all  who  heard  or  read  the  discourse,  it  appeared 


OCCASIONAL    SERMONS.  153 

as  far  as  possible  from  any  intention  to  flatter.  The 
sermon  was  not  introduced,  as  is  usual,  by  the  annuncia 
tion  of  the  text,  but  by  an  address  to  the  people,  con 
gratulating  them  upon  the  safe  arrival  of  the  President 
of  the  United  States.  The  preacher  says:  — 

"We  now  see  this  illustrious  patriot,  like  the  father  of  a 
great  family,  visiting  its  various  branches  to  bless  and  to 
be  blessed,  to  start  the  tear  of  joy,  and  awaken  mutual  con 
gratulations.  He  comes,  —  not  attended  with  mercenary 
guards,  like  kings  and  emperors,  who  hold  their  dignity  by 
hereditary  descent,  who  ever  fear  where  no  fear  is,  —  he 
comes  not  in  the  triumph  of  military  parade,  to  show  the 
spoils  and  laurels  he  hath  won,  —  but  he  comes  triumphing 
in  the  confidence  and  affection  of  a  free  and  grateful  people, 
who,  under  God,  hail  him  as  the  deliverer  of  their  country, 
and  the  protector  of  its  liberties 

"  Too  much  respect,  that  falls  short  of  religious  hom 
age,  cannot  be  paid  to  one  to  whom  we  owe  so  much  ;  were 
more  to  be  offered,  he  would  say,  with  the  angel  in  the  Rev 
elation,  l  See  thou  do  it  not !  I  am  thy  fellow-servant,  and 
of  thy  brethren  that  have  the  testimony  of  Jesus.  Worship 
God!' 

"  Whatever  distinctions  there  may  be  among  mankind, 
however  indebted  we  may  be  to  an  earthly  benefactor,  they 
all  fade  away  before  our  Father ;  '  For  one  God  hath  cre 
ated  us  ;  there  is  none  in  the  heavens  that  may  be  compared 
to  him.  there  is  none  among  the  sons  of  the  mighty  that 
may  be  likened  to  Jehovah.'  Permit  me,  then,  my  friends, 
to  take  occasion,  from  this  auspicious  event  of  a  kind  Provi 
dence,  to  excite  your  expectations,  exalt  your  conceptions, 
and  solicit  your  preparation  for  the  approach  of  that  glori 
ous  character,  '  who  is  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory, 
and  the  express  image  of  his  person';  who  is  so  infinitely 
exalted  that  it  is  the  crowning  excellence  of  the  most  per- 


154  DEEP    REGARD    FOR    WASHINGTON. 

feet  and  exalted  human  character  to  be  his  servant  and  dis 
ciple.  This  I  shall  do  by  calling  your  attention  to  that  sub 
lime  demand  of  the  royal  poet :  — 

"  '  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lifted  up,  ye 
everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  Glory  shall  come  in. 
Who  is  this  King  of  Glory  ?  The  Lord,  strong  and  mighty, 
the  Lord  mighty  in  battle.'  v 

The  sequel  of  the  sermon  was  an  exhortation  to  his 
hearers  to  be  prepared  for  that  great  coming  of  Jesus, 
and  to  open  the  doors  of  their  hearts  to  give  him  en 
trance.  And  in  conclusion  he  said,  u  that  it  was  the 
greatest  distinction  of  their  illustrious  guest  that  he  hon 
ored  the  Saviour,  and  rendered  homage  to  the  Father 
of  all." 

In  as  far  as  a  man  like  him  could  permit  himself  to 
cherish  an  almost  idolatrous  affection  for  any  human  be 
ing,  Dr.  Buckminster  felt  that  affection  for  Washington. 
The  only  journey  that  he  appears  to  have  made  while 
tutor  at  New  Haven  was  to  visit  the  camp  at  Cam 
bridge,  —  where,  indeed,  his  uncle,  Colonel  William 
Buckminster,  was  ;  but  his  object  appears  to  have  been 
to  see  the  illustrious  man.  Of  the  twenty-five  sermons 
that  were  printed  during  his  ministry,  six  were  devoted  to 
the  character,  and  in  public  commemoration,  of  Washing 
ton.  Only  twice  does  the  writer  remember  to  have  seen 
her  father  weep.  The  first  time  was  at  the  death  of  that 
great  man.  When  the  news  of  that  sudden  and  disas 
trous  event  reached  him,  tears,  a  flood  of  tears,  impeded 
his  utterance  as  he  attempted  to  impart  the  news  to  his 
family.* 

*  It  was  his  habit  to  send  a  copy  of  his  printed  sermons  to  Wash 
ington.  These  were  always  acknowledged  by  a  letter  from  the  Presi 
dent's  own  hand. 


EXTRACT    FROM    DR.    PARKER'S    SERMON.  155 

It  \vas  urged,  at  the  death  of  Dr.  Buckminster,  that 
the  best  legacy  that  could  be  given  to  his  parish  would 
be  a  volume  of  his  sermons.  Such  a  gift  was  rendered 
difficult  by  his  habit  of  writing  in  a  character,  the  key 
to  which  was  not  understood.  As  his  mind  was  highly 
poetical,  the  character  of  his  preaching  was  discursive 
rather  than  argumentative.  Scripture  biography,  espe 
cially  that  of  the  patriarchs,  wras  a  favorite  subject  for 
his  sermons,  in  which  his  vivid  imagination  entered  fully 
into  the  picturesque  Orientalism  of  their  lives  and  char 
acters.  But  David  was  the  Scripture  character  in  whose 
poetical  and  devotional  spirit  he  wholly  sympathized, 
The  fervent  piety  and  touching  humility  exhibited  in  the 
Psalms  of  David  excited  in  him  the  strongest  emotion. 
The  poetry  of  the  Scriptures  was  ever  on  his  lips,  and 
much  quoted  in  his  sermons. 

The  wrriter  is  painfully  aware  that,  where  the  space 
is  limited  and  the  occasion  admits  of  no  more,  detached 
parts  afford  but  a  very  inadequate  impression  of  the 
whole  sermon. 

Before  giving  any  extracts  from  Dr.  Buckminster's 
writings,  the  opinion  is  quoted  of  one  who  had  formed 
his  judgment  from  an  intimate  .acquaintance,  and  who 
could  not  be  suspected  of  partiality. 

"  The  character  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  mind  was  strongly 
marked.  It  had  much  originality.  No  person  could  be  con 
versant  with  him  without  noticing  that  strength  of  volition 
which  indicates  superiority  of  intellectual  endowment.  His 
mind  was  rapid  in  its  operations  and  impatient  of  delay.  In 
the  character  of  his  mind  he  was  qualified  for  distinction  in 
the  departments  of  elegant  literature.  Such  in  his  early  life 
was  his  taste  for  the  attractions  of  music  and  poetry  that  he 
seriously  apprehended  he  should  be  drawn  from  solid  useful- 


156  EXTRACT    FROM    DR.    PARKER'S    SERMON. 

ness  of  character,  to  enjoy  the  allurements  of  fancy.  Under 
this  apprehension,  he  almost  totally  abstracted  himself  from 
his  favorite  pursuits,  and  for  Parnassus  substituted  Mount 
Zion.  In  his  sermons  and  in  his  services  as  a  minister, 
traces  of  a  playful  imagination  were  ever  visible.  He 
seemed  to  delight  to  dwell  upon  the  figurative  language 
and  the  rich  imagery  of  Scripture,  and  to  adorn  the  solemn 
truths  of  religion  with  all  the  ornament  that  the  sacred  clas 
sics  could  supply 

"  His  sermons  were  not  labored  by  art.  His  mind  was 
not  accustomed  to  the  regular  management  of  argumenta 
tive  discourse.  It  was  impatient  of  the  forms  of  close  inves 
tigation  and  systematic  reasoning.  It  glanced  with  rapidity 
from  one  subject  to  another,  and  when  truth  was  discovered 
he  was  eager  to  give  to  it  a  practical  effect.  His  discourses, 
therefore,  were  often  rather  a  collection  of  truths  and  ex 
hortations  deemed  important  and  useful,  than  a  systematic 
arrangement  of  arguments  and  thoughts  upon  any  particular 
subject."  * 

It  may  be  added,  that  the  effect  of  his  preaching  was 
to  produce  emotion,  rather  than  conviction.  Emotion  is 
necessarily  transient  ;  and,  although  he  was  one  of  the 
most  eloquent  of  the  Orthodox  persuasion,  there  was  no 
revival  in  his  parish  during  his  ministry. 

The  first  of  his  sermons  that  was  given  to  the  public 
was  upon  the  occasion  of  the  National  Thanksgiving, 
appointed  by  Congress,  December  llth,  1783,  after  the 
ratification  of  the  treaty  of  peace  with  Great  Britain. 
It  is  remarkable  for  a  eulogy  upon  Louis  the  Sixteenth, 
"  who,  while  Protestant  powers  stood  aloof  from  our  aid, 
and,  like  the  priest  and  the  Levite,  passed  over  on  the 

*  From  Dr.  Parker's  Funeral  Sermon. 


DR.  EUCKMINSTER'S  SERMONS.  157 

other  side,  like  the  good  Samaritan,  rose  to  our  assist 
ance  ;  and,  as  a  second  Cyrus,  offered  his  aid  for  secur 
ing  our  liberties." 

The  next  of  his  sermons  which  was  printed  was  after 
the  death  of  Mrs.  Porter,  of  Rye,  the  wife  of  one  of 
his  brethren  of  the  Piscataqua  Association.  She  was  a 
lady  of  remarkable  loveliness  of  person  and  character  ; 
and  as  she  died  soon  after  the  death  of  his  own  first  wife, 
similarity  of  circumstances,  and  sympathy  of  feeling  un 
der  the  same  bereavement,  produced  utterances  of  pe 
culiar  tenderness  and  eloquence. 

Of  the  extracts  that  follow,  the  first  is  from  a  sermon 
preached  February  22d,  1800,  —  the  day  appointed  by 
Congress  to  commemorate  the  death  of  Washington. 
The  North  and  South  Parishes  united  upon  this  occasion, 
and,  as  it  was  not  the  Sabbath,  the  sermon  has  more  of 
a  political  aspect  than  is  usual.  The  theme  of  the  dis 
course  is,  that  cc  religion  and  righteousness,  or  justice, 
are  the  basis  of  national  honor  and  prosperity." 

"  Let  us  strive  to  preserve  that  American  veneration  for 
God  and  his  judgments,  and  a  practical  regard  to  that  glori 
ous  system  of  truth  and  duty  which  he  has  given  us.  This 
will  be  our  wisdom  and  understanding;  this  will  be  the 
means  of  our  renown  among  the  nations  of  the  earth  ;  and, 
what  is  far  more,  it  will  secure  to  the  institutions  of  our 
young  republic  a  stability  and  permanency  by  the  blessing 
of  Him,  whose  it  is  to  make  great  and  give  strength  unto  all. 

"  May  we  not  be  encouraged  to  this  duty  by  the  fond,  and 
not,  I  believe,  enthusiastic  hope,  that  God  designs  America 
as  the  honored  and  happy  instrument  of  extending  the  ban 
ners  of  truth  and  freedom,  and  of  placing  a  barrier  against 
the  flood  of  infidelity  that  has  deluged  so  great  a  part  of  the 
14 


158  ON    PARTY    SPIRIT. 

Old  World  ?  Do  not  the  views  and  principles  with  which  this 
country  was  settled,  its  situation  with  respect  to  the  nations 
of  Europe,  the  remarkable  dispensations  of  Heaven  in  ref 
erence  to  its  religious  as  well  as  political  interests,  give  ra 
tional  ground  for  this  hope  ?  Without  a  prevalence  of  virtue 
and  justice,  republics  cannot  exist;  without  religion,  virtue 
cannot  prevail ;  and  no  religion  affords  so  firm  a  basis,  or 
exhibits  such  animating  motives  to  a  manly  virtue,  as  that 
which  brings  life  and  immortality  to  light,  and  holds  forth 
rewards  and  punishments  stamped  with  eternity.  If  we  re 
tain  any  reverence  for  revelation,  we  must  believe  that^God 
will  preserve  his  Church  in  the  world.  He  may  remove  it 
from  one  place,  but  it  shall  be  firm  in  another.  The  gates 
of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it.  4  The  kings  of  the  earth 
may  set  themselves,  and  the  rulers  take  counsel  together, 
against  the  Lord  and  against  his  anointed,'  but,  in  the  sub 
lime  language  of  Scripture,  '  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens 
will  laugh,  the  Lord  shall  have  them  in  derision  ;  then  shall 
he  speak  to  them  in  his  wrath,  and  vex  them  in  his  hot  dis 
pleasure.'  From  these  considerations,  may  not  the  friend  of 
religion,  of  good  order,  of  liberty,  encourage  a  rational  hope 
that  God  will  yet  maintain  his  throne  among  us,  and  display 
his  banner,  because  of  truth  ?  And  may  not  every  such  true 
patriot  be  encouraged  in  every  rational  exertion  to  revive  a 
practical  regard  '  to  all  those  dispositions  and  habits  which 
lead  to  political  prosperity,  of  which  religion  and  morality 
are  indispensable  supports  '  ? 

"  Let  it  not  be  thought  a  vain  repetition  if  I  again  exhort 
my  enlightened  and  reflecting  fellow-citizens  to  soften  all 
their  unpleasant  feelings,  and  merge  all  their  party  views  in 
a  united  veneration  for  God  and  his  government,  and  in  a 
conscientious  and  exemplary  observance  of  his  laws  and  in 
stitutions.  Thus  shall  we  prove,  that,  though  we  are  men, 
and  liable  to  err,  under  the  impressions  to  which  humanity 
is  subject,  yet  we  are  indeed  the  friends  of  our  country,  and 


ON    PATRIOTISM.  159 

ready  to  do  every  thing  in  our  power  to  secure  to  it  the 
shield  and  benediction  of  Him  who  can  make  a  little  one 
to  become  a  thousand,  and  a  small  one  a  strong  nation. 

"  If  there  is  any  confidence  to  be  placed  in  the  deductions 
of  reason,  or  any  credit  to  be  given  to  the  declarations  of 
Scripture,  we  learn  from  these  remarks  who  are  the  true 
friends  of  our  country,  and  the  means  of  securing  to  it  na 
tional  honor  and  prosperity.  The  true  friends  of  our  coun 
try  are  those  who  rationally  and  devoutly  reverence,  adore, 
and  fear  God,  and  keep  his  righteous  judgments  and  con 
scientiously  walk  in  his  statutes  and  ordinances.  I  would 
not  be  understood  to  insinuate  that  contemners  of  religious 
duties,  and  even  men  void  of  religious  principle,  may  not 
have  an  attachment  to  their  country  and  la  desire  for  its  civil 
and  political  prosperity  ;  nay,  they  may  even  expose  them 
selves  to  great  dangers  and  make  great  sacrifices  to  accom 
plish  this  object ;  but  by  their  impiety  they  weaken  the  en 
ergy  of  those  inspiring  principles  that  serve  to  ennoble,  in 
vigorate,  and  enlarge  the  public  mind,  and  introduce  prin 
ciples  that  enervate  and  corrupt  public  sentiment.  They 
take  away  the  heavenly  defence  and  security  of  a  people, 
and  render  it  necessary  for  Him  who  ruleth  among  the  na 
tions  by  righteous  things  in  judgment  to  testify  his  displeas 
ure  against  those  who  despise  his  laws  and  contemn  his  ordi 
nances.  In  the  present  state  of  the  world,  fleets  and  armies 
are  necessary  means  of  security  and  defence  ;  but  they  will 
eventually  prove  a  broken  reed  to  the  nation  that  despises 
the  God  of  armies, "and  pours  contempt  upon  his  authority. ' 
There  is  "fib "counsel,  understanding,  or  might  against  the 
Lord.  The  true  fearer  of  God  and  worker  of  righteousness 
is  the  truest  friend  of  his  country,  and  the  means  of  her  de 
fence  ;  and  when  such  is  the  character  of  the  rulers  of  any 
country,  her  renown  will  go  forth  among  the  nations,  and 
she  may  look  for  national  honor  and  prosperity. 

"  This  subject  directs  the  honest,  independent,  and  patriotic 


160  ON    PATRIOTISM. 

citizen  in  the  exercise  of  his  high  birthright  as  a  freeman,  in 
giving  his  suffrage  for  civil  rulers.  This,  though  a  natural 
right  of  man,  is  enjoyed  but  by  a  very  small  portion  of  our 
race.  They  who  are  distinguished  by  this  high  privilege 
ought  to  honor  themselves  by  an  honest  and  dignified 
exercise  of  it,  and  not  carelessly  despise  their  birthright, 
much  less  sell  it  at  a  less  premium  than  a  mess  of  pottage, 
to  answer  the  party  purposes  of  ambition,  or  pride,  envy,  or 
any  other  low  passion. 

"  The  character  of  a  nation,  then,  my  friends,  is  decided 
by  the  character  of  its  rulers,  especially  in  a  free  and  elect 
ive  government.  If  the  rulers  of  a  people  are  men  of  prin 
ciple,  who  fear  God  and  own  his  statutes,  the  nation  will  be 
regarded  in  this  approving  light  by  Him  who  superintends  the 
affairs  of  nations.  Every  friend  to  his  country,  in  the  choice 
of  its  civil  rulers,  should  have  his  eye  upon  the  faithful  of 
the  land,  —  upon  such  as  fear  God.  It  is  to  be  expected, 
other  things  being  equal,  that  we  should  give  our  suffrages 
for  men  whose  political  views  accord  with  our  own  ;  yet 
scarcely  could  that  man  vindicate  his  claim  to  the  meed 
of  patriotism  who  should  give  his  suffrage  to  a  man  who 
had  no  other  claim  to  the  dignified  station  of  a  civil  ruler, 
or  who  was  destitute  of  the  commanding  influence  of  relig 
ious  principle" 

A  sermon  which  he  preached  before  the  general  elec 
tion,  February  28th,  1796,  upon  the  duty  of  republican 
citizens  in  the  choice  of  their  rulers,  from  the  text, 
"  Mine  eyes  shall  be  upon  the  faithful  of  the  land," 
drew  forth  very  severe  animadversions  from  some  per 
son  of  the  Democratic  party,  in  an  anonymous  pamphlet. 
Although  many  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  published  sermons 
are  occasional,  and  upon  subjects  of  public  and  political 
interest,  those  of  a  domestic  character  have  a  more 
tender  and  intimate  reference  to  life. 


ON    DOMESTIC    VIRTUES.  161 

A  sermon  upon  domestic  contentment,  from  the  text, 
"  Better  is  a  dinner  of  herbs  where  love  is,  than  a 
stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith,"  Prov.  xv.  17,  was 
printed,  at  the  request  of  the  young  unmarried  men  of 
Portsmouth,  to  whom  the  doctrine  of  the  discourse  was 
peculiarly  comfortable.  The  extracts  that  follow-  are 
from  a  sermon,  also  of  a  domestic  character,  preached  at 
the  ordination  of  Rev.  James  Thurston,  at  Manchester, 
1809. 

"  '  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus.'  John 
xi.  5. 

"  There  are  Christians  of  different  degrees  of  amiable- 
ness,  age,  and  stature.  In  this  family,  which  was  the  ob 
ject  of  our  Saviour's  special  affection,  there  was  a  strik 
ing  variety  of  disposition.  They  are  described  by  an  able 
pen. 

"  Of  Lazarus  much  is  not  said.  He  seems  to  have  been 
a  serious,  solid,  established  professor  of  religion  ;  but  the 
two  sisters  are  more  strongly  marked,  —  more  minutely 
characterized.  Mary,  it  is  probable,  had  lately  been  called. 
She  was  full  of  those  pleasing,  but  often  transient,  emotions 
which  generally  accompany  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
life.  Wondering  at  the  gracious  words  that  proceeded  out 
of  his  mouth,  she  sat  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The  reverse  of 
all  this  was  the  defect  of  Martha.  She  was  anxious  and  ea 
ger.  She  was  susceptible  of  domestic  vanity,  and  therefore 
too  fond  of  parade  and  expensive  entertainments,  —  cum 
bered  about  much  serving.  She  was  also  fretful,  and,  by  the 
loss  of  temper,  betrayed  into  such  indiscretion  as  to  break 
in  upon  our  Saviour's  discourse,  to  complain  to  him  of  her 
sister's  negligence,  and  bring  upon  herself  his  friendly  re 
proof.  Yet  Jesus  loved  Martha  as  well  as  Mary.  He  knew 
her  frame  ;  he  saw  kindness  reigned  in  her  heart,  and  that 
she  was  no  less  attached  to  him  than  her  sister,  though  she 
14  * 


162  ON    CHRISTIAN    CHARACTER. 

had  mistaken  the  best,  the  most  acceptable  way  of  express 
ing  it. 

"  Religion,  though  divine  and  perfect  in  its  origin  and  ten 
dency,  is  human  in  its  residence,  and  in  its  exercises  it  re 
ceives  a  tinge  and  complexion  from  the  region  that  it  occu 
pies.  If  we  withhold  Christian  affection  till  we  find  perfect 
characters,  the  world  must  ever  want  that  evidence,  by 
which, 'according  to  our  Saviour's  directions,  they  are  to  be 
assisted  in  discerning  his  real  disciples.  And  should  we 
not  blush  to  demand  what  nothing  but  ignorance  of  ourselves 
could  prevent  our  knowing  that  we  could  not  proffer  in  re 
turn  ?  The  reality  of  religion  is  not  determined  by  the  per 
fection,  but  the  sincerity,  of  its  subjects.  The  best  of  men 
are  at  best  but  rnen.  The  most  advanced  Christian  is  sancti 
fied  but  in  part ;  and  he  who  pretends  to  perfection  is,  by 
the  highest  authority,  pronounced  perverse.  Yet  we  are  not 
making  an  apology  for  sin.  There  is  an  essential  difference 
of  character  between  him  who  hath  tasted  that  the  Lord  is 
gracious,  who  hath  received  Christ  and  believed  in  him, 
and  he  whose  spiritual  senses  have  never  been  exercised  to 
discern  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  The  former  hates 
sin  and  loves  holiness ;  he  is  dead  to  sin,  and  alive  to  right 
eousness.  He  delights  in  the  law  of  the  Lord  offer  the 
inner  man.  He  receives  with  meekness  the  reproofs  of  wis 
dom,  and  tests  his  character  by  repentance  and  reformation. 
If  we  do  not  embrace  such  characters,  with  all  their  infirmi 
ties,  in  the  arms  of  Christian  charity,  we  neither  imitate  our 
Master  nor  respect  his  directions.  He  despises  not  the  day 
of  small  things.  The  bruised  reed  he  does  not  break.  He 
gathers  the  lambs  in  his  arms,  and  carries  them  in  his  bosom, 
and  succours  and  defends  the  most  helpless  of  the  flock. 
He  commands  those  that  are  strong  to  bear  the  infirmities  of 
the  weak,  and  not  to  please  themselves ;  to  be  tender  and 
pitiful  ;  to  receive  him  who  is  weak  in  virtue,  and  not  per 
plex  him  with  doubtful  disputations.  The  Christian  minister 


ON    FRIENDSHIPS.  163 

should  cherish  this  disposition  towards  all  the  lambs  and 
sheep  of  the  fold,  but  it  may  be  diversified  in  its  exercise  by 
all  the  various  circumstances  and  characters  of  his  people. 
'  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus.' 

"  II.  In  this  trait  in  our  Saviour's  character  and  ministry, 
we  find  an  apology  for  what  is  often  imputed  to  ministers  as 
a  fault.  I  mean  a  particularity,  or  what  is  called  partiality, 
in  our  friendships  and  affections.  Few  ministers  escape 
this  charge,  and  fewer,  perhaps,  are  free  from  deserving  it ; 
but  the  history  of  our  Saviour  certainly  excuses  and  justifies 
a  kind  and  degree  of  partiality.  While  a  minister  is  ready 
for  every  office  of  ministerial  duty,  and  has  a  disinterested 
concern  for  all  his  people,  and  a  Christian  affection  for  such 
as  wear  the  livery  of  Christ,  he  is  not  bound  to  receive  all 
to  equal  intimacy,  but  may  choose  those  who  shall  share  his 
more  especial  friendship  and  confidence.  Jesus,  doubtless, 
had  a  sincere  affection  for  all  the  Apostles,  yet  John  is  dis 
tinguished  as  the  disciple  whom  he  preeminently  loved ;  and 
he  gave  him,  both  living  and  dying,  marked  tokens  of  his 
tender  affection  and  confidence.  John  not  only  sat  next  him 
at  meat,  but  leaned  on  his  bosom.  And,  when  hanging  on 
the  cross,  Christ  said  to  this  disciple,  '  Behold  thy  mother ! 
and  to  her,  Behold  thy  son !  and  from  that  time  this  disciple 
took  her  to  his  own  home.' 

"  Jesus  was  kind  and  attentive  to  all  his  followers,  but 
this  family  in  Bethany  seems  to  have  been  the  place  of  his 
frequent  and  most  delightful  resort.  It  is  but  just,  however, 
to  remark,  that  the  ground  of  this  preference  and  delight 
seems  to  be  altogether  laid  in  religion,  and  to  be  cemented 
by  their  spiritual  improvement,  and  their  delight  in  the  com 
pany  and  conversation  of  the  Saviour.  If  this  be  the  dis 
criminating  line  of  our  partialities,  and  we  give  the  prefer 
ence  to  scenes  and  circles  where  our  appropriate  duties  and 
services  are  most  acceptable,  though  partiality  be  imputed  to 
us,  we  shall  suffer  little  by  the  imputation.  But  if  our  pref- 


164  RELIGIOUS    ENJOYMENT. 

erences  are  influenced  by  a  worldly  spirit ;  if  the  circles  of 
amusement,  of  social  pleasure,  or  animal  indulgence  com 
mand  our  choice,  and  we  have  men's  persons  in  admiration 
because  of  selfish  advantage,  we  shall  find  nothing  in  the  life 
or  example  of  our  Saviour  to  give  us  countenance  or  excuse  ; 
nor  will  it  be  easy  to  shield  ourselves  from  reflections  upon 
the  genuineness  of  our  affection,  or  the  purity  of  our  zeal. 
"  But  did  not  the  Saviour,  it  may  be  asked,  attend  festival 
occasions  ?  Did  he  not  sup  with  the  rich  and  honorable  ? 
Assuredly ;  and  so  may  we.  We  are  not  to  go  out  of  the 
world,  because  we  are  not  of  it.  Happy  will  it  be  for  us, 
if,  on  these  occasions,  which  duty  and  decorum  call  us  to 
attend,  we  can  so  have  the  example  of  Christ  shedding  its 
influence  upon  us,  that  we  may  catch  some  favorable  mo 
ment  to  say  something  for  his  honor  and  the  edification  of 
our  friends.  Though  Jesus  did  not  decline  nor  refuse  these 
occasions  of  festivity  when  they  fell  in  his  way,  yet  candor 
will  acknowledge  that  he  never  coveted  them,  and  that  he 
ever  converted  them  into  purposes  of  religious  and  moral  in 
struction.  The  bosom  of  his  beloved  family,  the  retreat  at 
Bethany,  had  far  superior  delights  for  Christ.  And  the 
Christian  minister  in  the  retired  circle  of  Christian  friends, 
familiarly  conversing  and  explaining  the  things  of  the  king 
dom,  will  think  with  more  satisfaction  upon  the  example  of 
his  Master,  than  when  mingling  in  the  common  resorts  of 
men,  hearing  or  telling  something  new,  or  joining  scenes 
of  hilarity  and  amusement.  '  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her 
sister,  and  Lazarus,'  and  he  expressed  this  distinguishing 
affection  by  his  familiar  visits." 

Near  the  conclusion  of  the  sermon,  he  thus  speaks:  — 

"  From  the  tenor  of  this  discourse,  my  Christian  friends, 
you  will  conclude  that  I  entertain  fears  that  the  private,  so 
cial  duties  of  our  profession,  the  minor  concerns  of  our  of 
fice,  command  too  little  of  our  attention.  If  I  mistake,  or  if 


ON  PASTORAL  INTERCOURSE.  165 

the  defects  of  one  place  do  not  apply  to  another,  forgive  me 
this  wrong.  But  the  general  genius  and  taste  of  the  present 
day  for  extravagant  pleasures,  —  the  prevalence  of  a  love 
for  elegance,  splendor,  and  refinement,  for  literary  distinc 
tion  and  pulpit  eloquence,  —  increase  my  suspicions.  These 
ought  to  have  their  weight,  and  a  share  of  our  attention ;  but 
if  the  interviews  with  our  people  be  suspended,  or  lose  their 
religious  cast  and  complexion,  our  people  will  lose  a  great 
part  of  the  benefit  of  our  public  instruction,  which,  like  seed 
unwatched  and  unwatered,  will  yield  but  a  scanty  harvest. 
Is  not  private  visiting  the  principal  engine  of  sectarian  suc 
cess  ?  Wandering  from  house  to  house,  filled  with  zeal  for 
their  peculiar  principles  and  practices,  they  make  them  the 
subject  of  serious  and  familiar  conversation  in  all  families 
and  circles  that  will  listen  to  them  ;  accompanying  their  in 
structions  with  great  fervor  of  devotion  and  warm  expres 
sions  of  kindness  for  those  who  will  join  them.  The  tender 
and  thoughtful  receive  this  spirit  of  proselytism  as  the  spirit 
of  real  religion,  and  thus  they  are  seduced  and  led  away 
from  the  footsteps  of  that  flock  which  has  belonged  to  the 
fold  of  Christ  since  the  days  of  the  Reformation." 

We  must  indulge  ourselves  with  one  more  extract, 
which  shows  the  Christian  liberality  and  the  catholic  spirit 
of  Dr.  Buckminster.  It  is  from  a  sermon,  preached  at 
a  time  of  great  sectarian  zeal,  respecting  the  Baptists. 

"  The  unity  of  the  Church  does  not  consist  in  a  unity  of 
sentiment  upon  points  of  doctrine,  much  less  in  uniformity 
of  worship  or  modes  of  administering  its  ordinances  ;  but 
the  unity  of  the  Church  consists  in  receiving  and  acknowl 
edging  Christ  as  its  head,  and  submitting  to  all  that  we  in 
conscience  believe  he  has  enjoined,  —  in  partaking  of  his 
spirit,  so  that  sin  is  confessed,  forsaken,  and  abhorred, 
and  holiness  loved  and  pursued.  Does  not  the  Apostle  sup- 


166  ON    CHRISTIAN    UNITY. 

port  this  sentiment,  when  he  exhorts  '  to  keep  the  unity  of 
the  spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace '  ?  All  real  Christians, 
doubtless,  agree  in  certain  great  leading  points  of  doctrine  ; 
but  they  may  differ  widely  in  their  mode  of  explaining  and 
enforcing  them.  '  They  have  all  drunk  into  the  same  spirit,' 
and  are  the  subjects  of  similar  exercises  and  affections  ;  but 
they  may  worship  in  very  different  forms,  and  have  various 
opinions  upon  the  rites  and  institutions  of  religion.  We 
should  therefore  be  careful  that  our  zeal  for  the  unity  of  the 
Church  does  not  weaken  its  energy  or  destroy  its  beauty, 
and  that  our  attachment  to  the  mere  form  of  administering 
instituted  rites  be  not  carried  so  far  as  to  obstruct  the  en 
largement  of  the  Church. 

"  It  is  scarcely  more  reasonable  to  expect  that  men  should 
be  perfectly  harmonious  in  religion,  than  in  any  other  mat 
ter  that  interests  and  affects  their  passions.  Considering 
their  different  capacities,  advantages,  modes  of  education, 
habits  of  thinking,  and  prejudices  from  various  sources,  it  is 
to  be  expected  that  they  should  have  different  views  of  truth 
and  duty.  And  in  the  enjoyment  of  that  extensive  religious 
liberty  with  which  this  happy  land  is  favored,  and  the  uni 
versal  toleration  of  all  sects,  it  is  to  be  expected  that  differ 
ent  denominations  should  multiply  among  us,  and  support 
themselves  with  a  zeal  that  is  usually  attendant  upon  novelty, 
and  on  a  separation  from  long  established  principles  and 
forms.  When  success  attends  these,  and  they  spread  and 
increase,  other  denominations  are  apt  to  kindle  with  the  fire 
of  envy  and  jealousy,  and  to  cherish  a  disposition  to  forbid 
and  suppress  them.  But  the  instruction  of  our  Master  is, 
4  Forbid  them  not.'  If  they  acknowledge  Christ  as  their  Lord 
and  Master,  and  partake  of  his  spirit,  rejoice  in  the  good 
that  is  done,  whatever  irregularities  attend  the  doing  of  it. 
Every  enlightened  Christian  is  fully  persuaded  in  his  own 
mind  that  the  way  in  which  he  worships  God  is  most  agree 
able  to  his  revealed  will ;  but  he  is  not  to  denounce  those  who 


EXTEMPORANEOUS    PREACHING.  167 

differ  from  him,  nor  think  that  they  cannot  be  accepted  of 
God,  while  they  conscientiously  worship  according  to  the 
light  and  understanding  they  have  ;  nor  should  they  refuse 
to  such  the  tokens  of  Christian  fellowship,  nor  forbid  their 
exertions  to  promote  the  common  cause  of  Christianity." 

The  extracts  which  have  been  given  from  Dr.  Buck- 
minster's  sermons  may  hardly  be  thought  to  justify 
or  to  account  for  the  popularity  which  usually  accom 
panied  and  followed  his  preaching  ;  or  to  bear  out  the 
assertion  made  by  a  surviving  member  of  the  Piscat- 
aqua  Association,  that  the  associate  at  whose  house 
the  ministers  assembled  more  frequently  selected  him 
to  preach  than  any  other,  and  that  he  was  always  ad 
mired  by  the  people.  In  answ-er  it  may  be  said,  that, 
as  his  manuscript  sermons  were  written  in  a  short  hand 
now  impossible  to  decipher,  the  selections  could  only 
be  made  from  his  printed  sermons  ;  that  these  were 
upon  political  subjects,  or  upon  occasions  which  did 
not  admit  of  that  spontaneous  and  impassioned  eloquence 
for  which  he  was  most  admired  in  the  village  pulpits. 
His  habit  was,  at  the  close  of  his  sermon,  when  he  was 
thoroughly  imbued  with  his  subject,  to  throw  his  notes 
aside,  and  give  way  to  that  spontaneous  flow  of  thought 
which  gushed  up  from  his  ardent  soul.  This  led  to 
impassioned  appeals  to  the  conscience,  to  the  hopes 
and  the  fears,  of  his  audience.  In  his  printed  sermons 
there  are  few  traces  of  that  vivid  imagination  and  ardent 
temperament  which  distinguished  his  extemporaneous 
performances. 

Connected  with  his  public  ministrations  was  the  deep 
interest  he  took  in  the  musical  part  of  the  worship  of 
the  Sabbath.  Almost  his  only  recreation  was  the  pro- 


168  LOVE    OF    MUSIC. 

motion  of  the  singing  of  his  society.  For  this  purpose 
the  choir  were  very  frequently  invited  to  meet  at  his 
house.  There  was  a  large  room  in  the  parsonage, 
originally  intended  for  private  lectures  ;  but  as  Dr. 
Buckminster  never  held  these  in  his  own  house,  the 
room  was  rarely  opened  except  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  singers,  and  he  was  exhilarated  and  delighted 
when  there  was  a  full  choir,  and  a  tune  or  an  anthem 
was  well  performed. 

In  relation  to  this  subject,  a  characteristic  anecdote 
is  told  of  him.  Musicians  are  proverbially  sensitive, 
easily  wounded,  and  apt  to  take  offence.  Upon  one 
occasion,  the  pastor,  or  the  singers,  or  the  parish,  had 
unconsciously  given  offence,  and  the  whole  choir  de 
serted  at  once,  without  the  least  intimation  of  their  pur 
pose,  leaving  the  seats  empty  on  Sunday  morning.  After 
reading  the  hymn  as  usual,  and  finding  no  voice  raised, 
he  stepped  again  into  the  speaker's  desk,  and  began  to 
sing  alone.  His  voice  was  of  a  peculiarly  sweet  and 
silvery  tone,  and  thrilled  through  the  whole  building, 
and  touched  every  heart.  He  sang  the  whole  of 
the  first  stanza  alone,  but  at  the  beginning  of  the  sec 
ond  some  timid  voices  were  heard  joining  in  from 
different  parts  of  the  audience  ;  one  after  another  the 
voices  were  tuned,  and  before  the  hymn  was  finished 
the  whole  congregation  united  in  one  burst  of  music. 
It  was  remarked  that  the  singing  had  never  been  so 
agreeable,  and  that  the  society  could  dispense  with  the 
services  of  the  choir.  The  next  Sunday  all  were  in  their 
places,  and,  it  is  believed,  with  no  explanation  and  no 
complaint  from  the  pastor. 

During  these   years  of  Dr.   Buckminster's   ministry 


YELLOW-FEVER    IN    PORTSMOUTH.  169 

events  and  circumstances  touching  more  intimately  bis 
private  ministerial  duties  took  place.     In  the  months  of 
August  and  September,  1798,  a  putrid  malignant  fever, 
like  the  yellow-fever  of  Philadelphia  and  New  Orleans, 
prevailed  in  Portsmouth.     It  was  confined  to  the  part 
of  the  town  where  most  of  the  members  of  the  North  par 
ish  dwelt,  and  many  of  his  most  valued  parishioners  were 
attacked.     Consternation   and  terror  prevailed  through 
out  the    town,   and  numerous   families  rushed  into    the 
neighbouring    villages,   as    they   did  formerly    from    the 
plague  in   London.     In    the    course  of  less   than   three 
months  one  hundred  and  seven  persons  died  in  a  popu 
lation  of  about  five  thousand.     In  the  midst  of  the  uni 
versal  dismay,  the  physicians  of  the  town  were  stricken 
down  by  the  disease.      Dr.  Buckminster  remained  with 
his  family,  and  used  every  proper  means  to  prevent  the 
calamity  from  spreading.     He  was   always,  from  early 
morning  to  midnight,  among  the  sick,  serving  and  watch 
ing,  performing  the  part  of  physician  and  nurse,  as  well 
as  that  of  spiritual  comforter.     Often,  in  one  day,  after 
having  spent  the  night  with  the  afflicted,  and  closing  the 
eyes  of  the  dying,  he  was  obliged  to  array  the  dead  in 
tbe  garments  of  the  tomb,  to  accompany  them  to   their 
last  resting-place,   and  to  speak  words  of  comfort  and 
peace    to    sorrowing    and    trembling    relatives.       From 
thence  he  returned  wearied  and  exhausted  to  his  family ; 
but  not  till  he  had  changed  every  garment,  and  submitted 
to  the  processes  for  counteracting  contagion.    His  meet 
ing-house  was  not  closed,  as  was   the  case  with   many 
others  ;  he  preached  every  Sunday,  and  devoted  every 
other  hour  to  his  sick  and  dying  friends,  of  whom  some 
were  among  the  most  valuable  of  his  parishioners  ;  but 
his  own  family,  with  himself,  escaped  all  illness. 
15 


170  DR.    BUCKMINSTER    IN    CONTROVERSY 

Until  after  his  death  there  was  no  division  between 
the  Congregational  churches  of  Portsmouth.  The  epi 
thets  Orthodox  and  Liberal,  Calvinist  and  Unitarian, 
were  unknown  between  them.  Not  the  most  remote 
insinuation  is  intended  that  the  former  state  of  things 
was  better  than  the  present,  for  though  union  is  better 
than  disunion,  u  disunion  may  indicate  a  better  state 
of  things  than  is  indicated  by  concord."  Perhaps  it 
may  be  mentioned,  as  an  unusual  act  of  liberality  in 
another  denomination,  that  the  members  of  the  Episco 
pal  society,  the  day  after  the  fire  that  consumed  St. 
John's  Church,  met  in  Dr.  Buckminster's  meeting-house. 
It  was  Christmas  day,  and  they  were  without  a  Rector. 
The  service  was  read  by  one  of  their  own  number,  and 
the  Doctor  preached  from  the  words,  "  Our  holy  and 
our  beautiful  house,  where  our  fathers  worshipped  thee, 
is  burnt  up  with  fire."  His  sermon,  from  its  sympathy 
and  appropriateness,  gave  great  satisfaction.  There  were 
other  Christmas  days  when  this  church  was  without  a 
Rector  that  he  was  invited  to  preach,  and  the  liberality 
that  asked  and  the  courtesy  that  answered  the  demand 
were  mutual. 

In  the  mean  lime  there  were  divisions  in  another  form 
which  gave  him  much  pain  and  perplexity.  About  the 
beginning  of  the  century  a  zealous  and  effective,  but 
very  violent,  Baptist  preacher  came  to  Portsmouth,  and 
made  a  strong  impression  there,  dividing  the  congrega 
tions  and  taking  from  Dr.  Buckminster's  society  some 
of  his  most  valuable  friends  and  church-members.  The 
two  divines  entered  into  a  written  controversy  upon  the 
subject  of  adult  and  infant  baptism,  each  supporting  his 
side  of  the  argument  with  ability.  At  the  close  of  the 
controversy,  Dr.  Buckminster  preached  three  sermons 


WITH    THE    BAPTIST    DENOMINATION.  171 

upon  the  subject,  which  were  printed,  from  one  of  which 
sermons  an  extract  appears  upon  a  preceding  page. 

Such  an  experience  is  one  of  the  severest  trials  to 
which  a  sensitive  and  conscientious  minister  can  be  sub 
jected.  It  requires  truly  Christian  liberality,  and  a 
catholic  spirit  which  rejoices  in  good,  however  done, 
to  see  those  for  whose  welfare  he  has  earnestly  labored 
turn  from  him  after  years  of  friendship,  —  to  see  the 
tender  seeds  of  piety  spring  up  and  ripen  in  hearts  that 
he  has  watched  and  guarded  for  many  years,  and,  just 
as  the  fruit  is  ready  to  be  gathered,  one  who  has  neither 
sown  nor  watered  come  in  and  reap  the  harvest. 

The  extracts  which  have  been  given  from  his  ser 
mons  are  a  very  inadequate  and  imperfect  representa 
tion  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  power  in  the  pulpit.  The 
pathos  of  his  voice,  his  earnestness  of  expression  in  the 
beseeching  appeals  to  the  heart  and  conscience,  uttered 
with  a  power  that  would  have  spread  terror  in  the 
audience,  if  they  had  not  been  immediately  succeeded 
by  pathetic  entreaty  to  come  to  the  fountain  of  refresh 
ing  waters,  and  to  seek  mercy  from  Him  who  is  ready 
to  save,  cannot  be  represented  by  any  description.  His 
appeals  to  the  audience  reminded  one  of  eloquent  pas 
sages  in  the  sermons  of  Bossuet.  To  borrow  the  words 
of  a  contemporary,  — tc  It  was  no  compliment  to  him  to 
say  that  his  preaching  was  eagerly  sought  by  the  parishes 
in  neighbouring  villages.  When  it  was  known  that  he 
was  expected  to  preach,  no  weather,  however  tem 
pestuous,  and  no  distance,  however  great,  would  keep 
the  farmers'  families  from  the  Sabbath  worship.  The 
village  meeting-house  was  crowded  with  a  rapt  and 
eager  audience.  Old  people  shed  tears  when  they  rec 
ollected  and  mentioned  sermons  they  had  heard  from 


172  LETTER    OF    REV.    MR.    FRENCH. 

him  in  his  youth,  and  hymns  that  he  had  read  with  pecu 
liar  pathos  were  cherished  in  the  memory  and  repeated 
many  years  afterwards.  His  prayers  were  spoken  of 
by  the  aged  as  having  comforted  and  raised  the  spirit 
far  above  the  cares  of  earth  ;  they  brought  conviction 
to  the  sinner,  peace  to  the  contrite,  and  a  soothing  tran 
quillity  to  the  mourning  heart." 

In  speaking  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  ministerial  gifts, 
I  have  quoted  the  opinions  of  contemporaries,  and  re 
lied  upon  the  representations  of  others.  A  letter  from 
the  Hon.  Daniel  Webster,  who  was,  during  his  resi 
dence  in  Portsmouth,  a  member  of  his  church  and  a 
constant  attendant  upon  his  preaching,  speaks  of  him 
thus  :  —  cc  Of  your  father,  his  power  and  eloquence,  his 
appearance  in  and  out  of  the  pulpit,  his  graceful  man 
ners,  his  agreeable  social  habits,  the  fervor  and  glow 
of  his  pulpit  performances,  I  have  a  most  lively  and 
distinct  recollection." 

Another,*  the  venerable  survivor  of  the  Piscataqua 
Association  of  Ministers  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  time, 
speaks  of  him  in  the  following  manner  :  — 

"  I  revered  and  loved  him.  His  memory  is  very  precious 
to  me.  But  you  will  need  nothing  from  my  recollections  in 
describing  his  noble  person,  his  frank,  intelligent,  digni 
fied,  kind,  and  cheerful  countenance,  his  unaffected  and 
engaging  manners,  his  purity  and  stability  of  character, 
his  unvarying  uprightness,  his  fidelity  in  the  performance 
of  his  Christian  and  ministerial  duties,  and  the  habitual 
life  of  piety  which  in  him  was  always  apparent. 

"  He  stood  very  high  in  the  opinion  and  affections  of 
the  Piscataqua  Association.  With  nothing  in  his  deport- 

*  Rev.  Jonathan  French,  of  North  Hampton,  N.  H.» 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    LOWELL.  173 

ment  which  savoured  of  self-seeking,  he  was  venerated 
and  beloved  by  his  brethren,  and  admired  by  their  people. 
At  a  period  when  ministers  of  the  Association  selected  for 
themselves  the  preachers  for  their  several  public  occasional 
meetings,  Dr.  Buckminster  oftener  than  any  of  his  brethren 
was  called  upon  to  preach.  I  heard  him  frequently,  and  on 
various  subjects.  The  matter  and  the  manner  of  his  dis 
courses  were  always  eminently  instructive  and  interesting." 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Lowell,  still  pastor  of  the  West  Church 
in  Boston,  who  may  be  supposed  to  differ  in  some  points 
from  Mr.  French,  coincides  with  him  in  regard  and  ad 
miration  for  Dr.  Buckminster.  He  thus  expresses  his 
opinion  and  his  reminiscences  :  — 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  been  acquainted  with  one 
of  Dr.  Buckminster's  profession,  who  impressed  me  with  a 
deeper  conviction  of  a  sincere  and  heartfelt  devotion  to 
the  duties  of  his  sacred  office  than  he  did.  There  was 
nothing  of  trifling  or  levity  about  him,  and  nothing  of  aus 
terity.  He  was  grave,  but  not  gloomy  ;  certainly  not  habit 
ually  so.  I  have  always  supposed  that  his  natural  dispo 
sition  was  a  cheerful  one,  and  that,  though  it  was  sobered 
and  chastened  by  his  religion  and  his  trials,  it  was  not  essen 
tially  changed. 

"  In  his  person  he  was  tall ;  in  his  manners  refined  and 
dignified,  with  a  countenance  indicative  of  high  mental 
superiority,  as  well  as  acute  sensibility,  with  the  kindest 
affections.  And  he  possessed  all  these.  He  was  a  remark 
able  man.  Had  he  been  ambitious  of  any  other  distinc 
tion  than  that  of  a  faithful  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the 
comparatively  contracted  sphere  in  which  Providence  had 
placed  him,  he  would  have  attained,  I  am  persuaded,  to 
great  eminence. 

"  In  his  preaching,  he  dwelt  often  upon  the  terrors  of  the 
15* 


174  PRIVATE    AND    DOMESTIC    HABITS 

Lord,  but  if,  as  he  should  do,  he  made  the  violated  law  speak 
out  its  thunders,  by  him,  '  in  strains  as  sweet  as  angels  use, 
the  Gospel  whispered  peace.'  With  his  talents,  and  unc 
tion,  and  noble  presence,  and  clear,  sonorous,  flexible  voice, 
he  could  not  fail  to  be  an  impressive  preacher." 

To  these  I  must  be  permitted  to  add  one  more  ex 
tract. 

"  No  one  could  be  once  in  the  presence  of  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster  and  ever  forget  him.  His  noble  and  eminently  strik 
ing  countenance,  faultless  in  its  symmetrical  beauty,  his  dig 
nified  and  graceful  manners,  made  a  deep  impression,  even 
before  his  conversation  had  allowed  one  to  form  an  opinion 
of  his  eminent  talents." 

The  most  interesting  part  of  his  character  was  not 
understood  except  by  his  own  family.  After  the  death 
of  his  first  wife,  he  was  plunged  for  many  months  in  deep 
gloom.  His  second  wife,  after  the  first  two  or  three 
years  of  her  married  life,  was  almost  always  an  invalid, 
and  occupied  in  rearing  a  young  family.  From  these 
causes  she  led  a  life  of  seclusion,  so  that  there  was  not 
that  frequent  intercourse  between  the  pastor's  family 
and  the  younger  members  of  the  parish  which  would 
have  enabled  them  to  see  him  in  the  most  interesting 
relations  of  life,  where  his  tenderness  and  kindness 
would  have  won  their  love,  even  more  than  his  pub 
lic  ministrations  commanded  their  reverence.  Of  his 
domestic  character  only  those  who  lived  under  the 
same  roof,  and  witnessed  the  spirit  of  accommodation, 
the  deep,  fervent,  but  delicate  and  forbearing  love  in 
every  family  relation,  the  genial  humor,  the  playful 
familiarity  with  which  he  treated  his  elder  children,  the 


OF    DR.    EUCKMINSTER.  175 

patience  and  winning  tenderness  he  showed  the  little 
ones,  could  know  that,  whatever  reverence  he  might 
command  in  public,  his  fervent  sensibility  was  the  most 
attractive  trait  in  his  character.  The  moment  his  clear 
and  musical  voice  was  heard,  the  children  were  wild 
with  impatient  joy  to  be  in  his  presence  ;  and  then  the 
infant  was  in  his  arms,  the  smaller  children  were  climb 
ing  his  knees  ;  and  in  their  infantile  complaints,  no  one 
had  the  power  of  soothing  like  himself.  The  youngest 
child  was  sent  from  home  to  nurse  ;  the  distance  was  per 
haps  half  a  mile  ;  every  day  during  the  winter,  when  the 
snow  or  rain  did  not  actually  descend  with  violence,  the 
little  girl  was  brought  home  in  her  father's  arms,  and 
carried  back  again  in  the  afternoon  by  the  same  tender 
guardian.  And,  with  all  his  tenderness  of  feeling,  it  was 
his  deep  sense  of  duty,  of  parental  responsibility,  that 
made  him  so  careful,  so  incessantly  watchful,  over  his 
children. 

His  habits  were  as  exact  as  frequent  domestic  inter 
ruptions,  with  a  large  family,  could  permit  them  to  be. 
He  had  almost  a  passionate  love  for  gardening,  and  in 
summer  the  rising  sun  usually  found  him  there.  His 
were  always  the  earliest  pease,  cucumbers,  etc.,  and  when 
his  little  girls  were  old  enough,  he  assisted  them  to  keep 
their  small  flower-borders  rich  and  fragrant  with  early 
blossoms.  In  the  winter,  the  wood-pile  was  substituted 
in  the  early  morning  instead  of  exercise  in  the  garden  ; 
and  young  men,  students  of  law  in  Portsmouth,  among 
them  Daniel  Webster  himself,  were  invited  to  join  him  in 
sawing  wood.  I  believe,  however,  that,  after  one  trial, 
they  gave  him  no  opportunity  to  repeat  the  invitation. 

It  was  his  unfailing  practice  to  finish  his  sermons  be 
fore  noon  on  Saturday,  and  the  afternoon  of  that  day 


176  MINISTERIAL    VISITS. 

was  given  to  visiting  the  sick  or  afflicted  of  the  parish  ; 
other  afternoons  of  the  week  were  devoted  to  general 
visiting.  Those  who  had  long  been  unable  to  attend 
meeting  depended  upon  their  Saturday  afternoon  visit, 
and  were  in  the  habit  of  saying  that  their  Sabbath  began 
at  the  hour  when  their  pastor  came  to  pray  with  them. 

I  should  leave  a  beautiful  trait  of  Dr.  Buckminster's 
character  untouched,  did  I  omit  to  mention  his  tender 
and  respectful  attentions  to  the  aged.  The  parents 
of  his  second  wife  dwelt  at  York,  on  the  Maine  side 
of  the  Piscataqua  River,  eight  miles  distant  from  Ports 
mouth.  Madam  Lyman  was  a  most  lovely  example 
of  attractive  old  age.  She  retained  the  vivacity,  the 
quickness  of  perception,  the  gentle  dignity,  and  the  win 
ning  sweetness,  which  we  are  apt  to  think  belong  exclu 
sively  to  the  younger  periods  of  life.  She  had  been 
educated  by  Mr.  Moody  of  York,  one  of  the  distin 
guished  Puritan  divines  of  our  country,  and  she  was 
familiar  with  the  old  English  poets  ;  quotations  from 
which  she  would  frequently  introduce  into  familiar  con 
versation.  It  may  be  thought  that  this  would  have  a 
ludicrous  air  of  pedantry  ;  but  the  quotations  were  so 
appropriate,  so  evidently  suggested  by  the  topic,  that 
they  lost  their  formal  air,  and  seemed,  from  her  lips,  the 
only  thing  that  could  be  said  upon  the  subject  ;  her 
son-in-law  would  often  meet  her  quotations  with  others 
of  a  humorous  description,  as  he  was  almost  as  familiar 
with  poetry  as  herself.  Dr.  Buckminster  visited  these 
aged  relatives  as  often  as  once  in  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  showed,  by  his  respectful  gallantry  to  his  charming 
step-mother,  "  that  sixty  was  winning,  as  well  as  six 
teen." 

The  impression  may  have  been  made  in  the  early  part 


PERSONAL    CHARACTER.  177 

of  this  memoir  that  he  was  subject  to  constant  depres 
sion  of  spirits.  No  impression  could  be  more  erroneous. 
Only  at  two  or  three  periods,  during  the  whole  course  of 
his  life,  did  he  suffer  from  nervous  depression.  At  all 
other  times  he  was  a  most  cheerful  and  fascinating  com 
panion.  His  company  was  sought  by  young  and  old, 
and,  in  all  social  visiting,  the  pastor's  presence  was  indis 
pensable  to  the  cheerfulness  of  the  occasion.  Parties 
were  not  then  so  large  but  that  each  one  might  enter 
into  the  amusement  of  the  whole.  His  imagination  was 
so  lively,  his  conversation  so  rich  and  varied,  he  was 
so  happy  in  allusions  to  subjects  that  arrested  the  atten 
tion,  and  made  a  lasting  impression  of  something  valu 
able,  even  when  amusement  alone  had  been  sought,  that 
it  may  be  safely  asserted  that  his  character,  in  its  beauty 
and  goodness,  was  as  eloquent  a  sermon  as  those  that  fell 
from  his  lips  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and  his  benignant  counte 
nance  spoke  a  benediction  upon  all  who  looked  upon  it. 

His  remarkable  unworldliness,  and  his  persuasion  that 
sentiment  is  the  treasure-house  of  happiness,  and  that 
young  ministers  especially  should  have  in  reserve,  for  the 
peculiar  trials  of  their  calling,  the  domestic  affections,  to 
fall  back  upon  as  the  surest  of  all  resources,  made  him 
think  lightly  of  pecuniary  cares.  He  used  to  encourage 
his  brethren,  when  their  means  were  scanty,  to  give  them 
selves  to  their  appropriate  work,  and  to  confide  in  the 
Providence  of  God.  He  said,  u  As  a  general  thing,  it 
is  with  ministers  in  regard  to  their  livings  as  with  the 
Israelites  of  old  in  gathering  manna.  They  gather, 
some  more,  some  less.  He  that  gathers  much  has 
nothing  over,  and  he  that  gathers  little  has  no  lack." 

A  few  of  his  familiar  letters  to  his  daughters  close  the 
chapter. 


178  LETTERS    TO    HIS    DAUGHTERS. 

"June,  1804. 

"  MY  DEAR  DAUGHTERS  :  —  It  is  unreasonable  to  expect 
that  you  should  know  how  much  interested  your  parents  are 
in  your  welfare,  or  how  anxious  they  are  that  you  should 
pass  the  critical  and  most  important  period  of  youth  so  as 
to  leave  no  painful  or  humiliating  reflection  for  years  of 
more  mature  life.  We  are  thankful  that  God  has  given  you 
(for  we  are  indebted  to  him  for  all  we  have)  healthy  con 
stitutions,  and  that  degree  of  understanding  that  gives  us 
reason  to  hope,  that,  if  you  are  not  wanting  to  yourselves, 
you  may  pass  through  the  ordinary  stations  of  life  with  repu 
tation  to  yourselves,  and  with  comfort  and  usefulness  to 
your  friends.  You  have  passed  the  more  playful  season  of 
youth,  and  are  now  in  the  seed-time  of  life,  and  as  you  sow, 
so  will  you  reap.  While  you  are  endeavouring  to  cultivate 
and  improve  your  minds,  remember  it  is  all  with  the  ulti 
mate  view  of  improving  your  hearts.  Hate  every  immoral 
ity.  Cherish  an  habitual  sense  of  the  presence  of  God,  and 
know  that  his  eye  is  always  upon  you.  He  has  said,  *  I 
love  them  that  love  me,  and  they  who  seek  me  early  shall 
find  me.'  Do  not  live  without  daily  prayer.  Do  not  pro 
fane  the  Sabbath  by  entering  into  any  amusement  unbecom 
ing  the  day 

My  dear  children,  I  am  anxious  for  you,  and  would  do 
every  thing  in  my  power  to  promote  and  secure  your  pres 
ent  and  future  felicity.  If  you  are  wise,  my  heart  will  re 
joice  ;  if  you  are  vain,  foolish,  and  frivolous,  you  will  mul 
tiply  the  gray  hairs  on  my  head,  and  the  sorrows  in  my  heart. 
To  God  I  have  often  commended  and  do  again  commend 
you,  and  pray  that  he  would  give  you  wisdom  and  grace." 

"July,  1804. 

"  MY  DEAR  DAUGHTERS,  —  The  continued  illness  of  your 
mother  rendering  it  inconvenient  for  her  to  write,  I  will 
not  let  slip  this  favorable  opportunity  of  addressing  you. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  DAUGHTERS.  179 

Doubtless  your  situation,  at  this  period  of  your  life,  is-  highly 
agreeable  to  you  both,  and  I  hope  it  will  be  improving ;  but 
this  depends  very  much  upon  yourselves,  upon  your  resolu 
tion  and  unremitting  care  to  form  your  manners,  to  repress 
every  awkward  and  ungraceful  habit,  to  study  what  will  make 
you  agreeable  and  useful  to  others,  and  qualify  you  to  act, 
not  a  frivolous  and  dissipated,  but  a  dignified  and  useful,  part 
in  life.  Your  dear  mother  used  to  say,  that  it  was  not  any 
one  particular  act  or  motion  that  characterized  the  lady.  It 
was  not  to  walk  well,  to  sit  well,  to  stand  well,  or  even  to* 
talk  well ;  it  was  the  whole  general  effect  of  every  action, 
and  motion,  and  word,  that  constituted  and  formed  the 
agreeable  whole  ;  — 

*  The  thousand  decencies  that  flow 
From  all  her  words  and  actions.' 

"  There  is  danger,  from  all  that  you  may  see  and  hear 
from  young  ladies  collected  from  the  different  ranks  and 
walks  of  life,  that  you  may  imbibe  prejudices  against  the 
regular,  retired,  domestic  life  which  you  have  hitherto  lived, 
and  that  you  may  contract  a  fondness  for  gayety  and  fri 
volity.  But  be  assured,  my  daughters,  if  contentment  and 
happiness  are  objects  of  desire  with  women,  at  any  period  of 
life,  they  miss  their  aim  if  they  live  a  life  of  folly,  frolic,  or 
frivolity.  If  we  were  to  live  here  for  ever,  there  would  be 
no  contentment  in  such  a  life  ;  but  when  we  consider  that  a 
few  years  must  terminate  our  residence  on  earth,  and  then 
we  must  give  an  account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  it  is 
the  extreme  of  folly  and  stupidity.  We  are  willing  you 
should  share  in  the  innocent  amusements  of  your  years,  but 
wish  you  to  remember  that  your  object  should  be  to  endeav 
our  to  prepare  to  be  useful  in  life,  to  minister  to  the  comfort 
of  your  connections,  and  the  support  of  religion.  Be  good 
and  obedient  to  your  instructors,  careful  observers  of  their 
pleasure,  condescending  and  affectionate  to  your  compan 
ions  ;  but  be  not  dupes  to  their  follies  or  whims.  Be  always 


180  LETTERS  TO  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 

merry  and  wise.  I  am  willing  you  should  amuse  your 
selves,  but  be  serious  and  remember  you  are  old  enough  not 
only  to  say,  but  to  pray,  your  prayers. 

"  Your  affectionate  father." 

Although  there  are  some  scores  of  such  letters  as  the 
above,  addressed  to  his  daughters  while  they  were  at 
boarding-school,  only  a  very  few  have  been  selected,  as 
a  more  faithful  impression  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  char 
acter  is  given  by  inserting  those  letters  that  are  more 
directly  upon  the  subject  of  religion. 

The  tenderness  of  the  father  for  his  daughters  in 
creased  as  he  advanced  in  life.  One  of  his  younger 
girls  having  been  sent  to  Boston,  for  the  purpose  of  at 
tending  a  dancing-school  for  one  quarter,  the  anxious 
father  wrote  to  her  at  least  every  week,  and  sometimes 
more  frequently. 

"  August  22d,  1811. 

"  MY  DEAR  F..  —  Having  no  mother  to  write  to  you  and 
advise  you,  you  must  suffer  a  father,  as  far  as  he  is  able,  to 
attempt  to  supply  that  inexpressible  loss,  and  I  am  persuad 
ed,  my  love,  that  you  will  respect  his  counsel.  My  object 
in  sending  you  to  dancing-school  is  not  so  much  that  you 
may  learn  to  dance,  as  that  your  manners  may  be  formed, 
and  that  you  may  be  able  to  conduct  yourself  with  propri 
ety.  I  was  very  much  gratified  to  receive  a  letter  from 
you,  the  first  you  have  ever  written  to  papa ;  it  came  safe, 
and  was  a  very  pretty  letter.  I  noticed  that  it  appeared  to 
be  written  in  a  great  hurry,  but  such  things  will  happen 
when  ladies  are  full  of  business  and  full  of  cares.  Though 
I  am  desirous  you  should  have  an  education  that  will  enable 
you  to  appear  without  blushing  in  the  society  of  your  equals, 
and  form  you  to  be  useful  and  agreeable,  yet  my  principal 
concern  should  be  that  you  may  be  educated  to  know  God 
and  Jesus  Christ,  and  be  trained  up  to  fear,  love,  and  serve 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  DAUGHTERS.  181 

him.  I  hope,  my  daughter,  you  will  not  forget  the  religious 
education  you  have  received,  nor  neglect  to  read  the  Bible 
every  day,  and  pray  to  God  to  take  care  of  you,  and  bless 
you,  and  keep  you  from  offending  him,  while  you  are  grow 
ing  up  to  serve  him  in  this  ensnaring  world.  Be  sure  I  shall 
pray  for  you,  love,  every  day,  and  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to 
me  to  know  that  you  prayed  for  your  father  and  your  broth 
ers  and  sisters.  I  hope  they  pray  for  you.  I  know  they 
love  you.  Be  a  good  girl,  and  every  body  will  love  you. 

"  I  hope  you  will  retain  your  affection  for  Portsmouth, 
and,  though  contented  wherever  you  stay,  you  will  always 
give  the  preference  to  your  father's  house  till  you  get  one 
of  your  own. 

"  I  preached  yesterday  to  my  people  from  Timothy's 
knowing  the  Scriptures  from  a  child.  He  was  an  excellent 
youth,  and  this  early  religious  knowledge  was  a  principal 
cause  of  his  excellence.  The  Bible  gives  good  directions 
for  our  worldly  comfort  and  prosperity,  and  it  is  the  only 
book  that  shows  how  sinners  may  be  forgiven  and  made 
happy.  It  says,  and  there  never  was  a  juster  saying,  that 
1  favor  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain,  but  a  woman  that 
feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  honored ! ' 

"  We  all  send  love,  from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  by 

"  Your  affectionate  father." 
"September  2d,  1804. 

"My  DEAR  F.,  —  I  have  so  many  cares  and  avocations, 
that  I  have  but  little  time  to  write.  I  am  sorry,  when  you  • 
have  so  much  time  on  hand,  that  you  should  stand  upon 
punctilios  with  papa.  If  you  knew  how  much  I  love  you, 
and  am  concerned  for  your  welfare,  you  would  think  of 
me  every  day,  pray  for  me  when  you  prayed  for  yourself, 
and  write  to  me  whenever  you  could.  I  send  you  a»little 
book  with  an  address  on  one  of  the  blank  leaves  from  your 
dear  father's  heart ;  if  you  have  never  seen  it,  I  hope  it 
will  please  you  ;  if  you  have  seen  it,  yet,  for  your  father's 
16 


182  LETTERS    TO    HIS    DAUGHTERS. 

sake  and  your  own,  you  will  read  it  again  and  again.  But 
there  is  no  book,  my  dear  Frances,  like  the  Bible.  Let  no 
business  nor  pleasure,  no  company  nor  care,  prevent  your 
reading  and  recollecting  some  part  of  it  every  day.  Other 
books  may  make  us  wise  for  this  world,  but  this,  believed 
and  obeyed,  will  make  us  wise  to  salvation,  through  faith 
that  is  in  Jesus  Christ.  If  others  neglect  the  Bible,  or  speak 
lightly  of  it,  O,  do  not  you  !  Remember  who  has  said,  '  What 
shall  it  profit  a  man  to  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his 
own  soul  ?  ' 

"  I  find  you  have  a  desire,  my  little  daughter,  to  attend 
the  dancing-school  ball,  and  I  would  not  so  far  thwart  your 
inclinations  as  to  forbid  it ;  but  I  would  caution  you  against 
thinking  that  to  figure  at  a  ball  is  any  essential  part  of  a 
lady's  education,  who  intends  to  form  the  refined  and  ele 
vated  character  which  I  hope  it  will  be  the  ambition  of  my 
daughters  to  attain.  No  lady  is  at  any  time  more  respected 
for  distinguishing  herself  in  these  sportive  exhibitions.  I 
sent  you  to  dancing-school,  in  the  hope  that  you  would  ac 
quire  an  easiness  of  mariners  that  would  render  you  grace 
ful  and  respectable  in  the  formal  or  the  family  circles  that 
you  may  be  connected  with  in  life. 

"  I  presume,  by  your  letter  to  one  of  your  sisters,  that 
you  have  been  to  the  theatre.  I  hope  the  edge  of  your  curi 
osity  is  taken  ofF,  and  that  once  will  suffice  for  such  an 
amusement.  The  theatre,  my  dear  daughter,  is  a  dangei- 
ous  place  for  young  women,  although  it  is  the  fashion  to 
praise  it,  and  talk  about  those  who  distinguish  themselves 
there.  Yet  who  esteems  an  actor  upon  the  stage  ?  Who 
ever  came  home  from  a  play  better  fitted  in  mind  or  heart 
to  read  the  Bible,  pray  to  God,  and  lie  down  upon  his  bed 
prepared  for  sleep  or  death  ? 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"J.    BUCKMINSTER." 


CHAPTER    XI. 

JOSEPH     S.     BUCKMINSTER.  HIS     THEOLOGICAL     STUDIES. 

CORRESPONDENCE. HIS    INVITATION    TO   BRATTLE   STREET 

CHURCH. HIS    ORDINATION. 

1804.  NEARLY  a  year  had  passed  since  the  corre- 

Aged  20.  spondence  we  have  inserted  between  the  father 
and  son,*  and  while  domestic  cares  pressed  heavily  upon 
the  former,  the  sorest  of  all  his  disappointments  was  the 
wavering  and  unsettled  faith  of  his  son  upon  some  doc 
trines  which  the  father  believed  essential  to  true  piety, 
to  the  culture  of  the  religious  affections,  and  to  all  use 
fulness  and  success  in  the  profession  he  had  chosen. 

It  has  been  seen  that  Joseph  did  not  pursue  his  stud 
ies  in  the  customary  manner,  which,  as  there  were  no 
schools  of  theology  at  that  time,  was  usually  by  residing 
in  the  family  of  a  clergyman,  and  studying  divinity,  as 
law  and  physic  were  studied,  under  the  direction  of  a 
master.  As  the  study  of  divinity  was  almost  wholly 
technical,  that  is,  the  study  of  the  forms  and  phraseology 
which  the  divine  science  had  taken  in  the  hands  of  man, 
two  or  threfe  years  was  ample  time  to  furnish  a  candidate. 
Joseph  seems  early  to  have  taken  a  more  liberal  view 
of  the  studies  requisite  to  his  profession.  In  one  of  his 
college  themes  there  is  a  humorous  description  of  the 

*  Pages  131-150. 


184  JOSEPH    S.    BUCKMINSTER. 

manner  of  finishing  a  candidate  for  the  ministry.  He, 
on  the  contrary,  thought  that  no  culture  could  be  too 
generous  for  this,  in  his  estimation,  the  most  noble  of 
professions  ;  that  every  branch  of  human  knowledge 
should  contribute  to  form  and  enrich  his  mind  who  was 
to  address  every  class  of  persons,  upon  subjects  the 
most  momentous  and  of  imperishable  value.  And  as 
the  preparation  could  not  be  too  liberal,  so  the  acquire 
ments  and  the  additions  to  his  rich  stores  of  preparation 
should  never  cease,  but  go  on  augmenting  to  the  end 
of  life. 

His  father  retained  the  old-fashioned  idea,  that  it  was 
indispensable  for  a  student  of  divinity  to  live  with  a  cler 
gyman  already  settled,  and  learn  ministerial  duties  from 
his  example.  That  Joseph's  studies  were  pursued  in  a 
manner  different  from  the  usual  course  is  undoubtedly 
true  ;  but  with  the  privilege  of  obtaining  books  from  the 
College  library,  which  he  could  not  have  enjoyed  by  re 
siding  in  a  remote  country  village,  the  society  of  the 
learned  of  all  professions,  and  fhe  excitement  of  mind 
that  is  obtained  in  all  literary  pursuits,  where  the  chain 
of  thought  is  kept  bright  by  the  perpetual  collision  of 
different  intellects,  must  have  more  than  counterbalanced 
the  advantages  of  private  instruction  in  ministerial  duties. 
There  is  also  a  class  of  duties  for  which  little  prepara 
tion  of  the  intellect  canfbe  received  from  books  or  from 
instruction.  To  comfort  the  afflicted  and  bereaved,  to 
soothe  the  guilty  or  agitated  soul,  to  support  with  tender 
sympathy  the  lonely  mind  as  it  approaches  the  gate  of 
death,  to  be  what  Jesus  was  to  the  sisters  and  Lazarus, 
the  heart  itself  is  the  best,  and  perhaps  the  only,  in 
structor.  He  who  does  not  feel  cannot  teach  upon 
such  occasions  ; — the  silent  pressure  of  the  hand  from 


HIS    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  185 

a  heart   deeply  moved  is  better  than  whole  volumes  of 
formal  consolation. 

There  are,  fortunately,  the  means  of  showing,  from  a 
journal  of  Joseph's  studies,  kept  very  exactly,  the  year 
previous  to  his  settlement  in  Brattle  Street,  that  his  read 
ing  was  extensive,  comprehensive,  and  most  conscien 
tious,  and  that,  in  compliance  with  his  father's  advice, 
he  faithfully  studied  Orthodox  writers.  He  made  an 
accurate  analysis  of  most  of  the  books  that  he  studied, 
which  is  too  long  to  be  inserted  here.  The  part  of 
the  journal  which  is  afterwards  inserted  is  from  De 
cember,  1803,  to  December,  1804.  It  probably  gives 
a  fair  account  of  his  manner  and  course  of  study,  and 
the  theological  student  of  the  present  day  can  judge 
how  far  it  would  have  been  better  to  have  yielded  to  his 
father's  earnest  advice,  to  put  himself  under  the  guidance 
of  some  settled  or  aged  minister.  No  doubt,  the  helps 
that  students  have  since  derived  from  the  introduction 
and  translation  of  German  theology,  the  study  of  the 
German  language,  the  various  learned  and  critical  re 
views,  which  were  then  almost  unknown,  the  establish 
ment  of  professorships  and  schools,  —  the  impulse  given 
to  theological  studies  by  all  these  aids  would  have  been 
of  incalculable  advantage  to  him,  —  would  have  abridged 
his  labor  and  cheered  him  on  his  solitary  path.  During 
this  whole  year,  also,  he  was  harassed  and  distressed  by 
his  father's  disapproval  of  his  method  of  study,  and  by 
the  withholding  of  his  consent  to  his  advancement  in  his 
profession.  This  alone  must  have  thrown  disheartening 
uncertainty  over  all  his  pursuits  ;  and  if  he  could  have 
been  discouraged,  it  would  have  turned  him  aside  from 
that  which  he  always  felt  was  the  sure  direction  and 
leading  of  Providence. 
16* 


b 


186  RECOMMENCES    PREACHING. 

How  sad  are  the  reflections  that  follow  from  readin 
the  record  of  his  studies  !  He  had  learned  the  mastery 
of  his  tools,  and  had  laid  out  a  great  plan  upon  a  world 
wide  area,  lengthening  out,  also,  to  the  end  of  life,  where 
the  ardor  of  pursuit  would  never  flag.  And  had  a  long 
and  healthful  Hfe  been  allotted  him,  his  favorite  passion 
would  have  cheated  it  of  its  loneliness.  "  And  what," 
as  he  said  of  another,  "  might  not  have  been  expected 
from  him,  had  he  enjoyed  the  lights  that  have  been 
thrown  upon  criticism  and  theology  since  his  death  ?  " 

Notwithstanding  the  matter  seemed  finally  settled,  in 
the  last  letters  that  passed  between  father  and  son,  the 
friends  of  the  latter,  in  Boston  and  Cambridge,  still 
urged  him  to  preach.  In  the  beginning  of  September 
he  visited  Portsmouth,  and  we  infer,  as  the  subject  was 
not  again  mentioned,  that  he  satisfied  his  father's  scru 
ples  so  far  as  to  obtain  his  consent  to  his  preaching. 
There  seems  to  have  been  a  silent  consent  between 
father  and  son,  that  differences  of  opinion  should  sink 
away,  and  that  they  should  stand  together,  although  on 
opposite  sides  of  theological  ground,  firm  to  both  of 
them,  joining  hands  across  the  abyss  that  separated 
them  ;  the  father  trusting  to  time  to  fill  the  chasm,  the 
son  to  parental  tenderness  to  overlook  it. 

Joseph  makes  this  entry  in  his  journal,  in  September, 
1804:  —  "Returned  from  Portsmouth  ten  days  ago. 
By  the  persuasion  of  Boston  friends,  and  the  consent  of 
my  father,  I  recommence  preaching.  Last  Sabbath  of 
September  preached  for  Mr.  Gushing  of  Waltham, 
Matthew  xi.  29:  c  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and 
lowly  of  heart.'  What  its  issue  will  be  I  know  not.  If 
I  could  satisfy  myself  and  my  father  better  in  undertak- 


INVITATION    FROM    BRATTLE    STREET    CHURCH.  187 

ing  this  work,  I  should  go  on  with  a  lighter  heart,  not 
withstanding  the  peculiar  difficulties  of  my  situation." 
A  number  of  the  leading  men  of  the  Brattle  Street 
society  went  to  Waltham  upon  this  occasion  to  hear  his 
first  sermon,  and  the  result  was  another  pressing  invita 
tion  to  preach  for  that  society. 

On  October  21st,  1804,  he  preached  for  the  first  time 
at  Brattle  Street.  After  the  entry  of  this  fact  in  his 
journal,  he  adds,  —  "  May  I  dare  to  say,  Deo  juvante  !  " 
The  people  of  Brattle  Street  Church  were  very  prompt 
in  their  measures.  At  their  next  meeting  it  was  voted 
unanimously,  "  That  the  committee  for  supplying  the 
pulpit  be  requested  to  invite  Mr.  Buckminster  to  preach 
to  us  four  Sabbaths,  upon  probation,  with  a  view  to 
settle  as  our  minister."  Upon  which  he  received  the 
following  letter  from  the  chairman  :  — 

"  SIR,  —  As  chairman  of  the  committee  for  supplying  the 
pulpit  in  the  parish  of  Brattle  Street  in  Boston,  I  have  the 
pleasure  to  transmit  to  you  the  inclosed  vote  of  that  society. 

"  From  the  unanimity  that  prevailed  when  the  vote  was 
passed,  it  may  be  considered  as  a  leading  step  towards  form 
ing  a  connection  which  I  hope  will  promote  their  interest 
and  your  happiness.  The  office  of  minister  to  this  ancient 
society  will  be  an  office  of  care  and  anxiety ;  but,  from  the 
character  of  the  parish,  I  think  you  may  reasonably  con 
clude  that  you  will  for  ever  receive  from  its  members  all  the 
candor  and  support  necessary  to  your  station  as  a  minister. 

"  I  remain,  with  ardent  wishes  for  your  health  and  useful 
ness,  your  sincere  friend  and  humble  servant, 

"JAMES  SULLIVAN." 

In  his  answer,  Mr.  Buckminster  says  :  —  "  In  pursu 
ance  of  this  vote,  I  consider  myself  engaged  to  supply 


188  EFFECT  OF  HIS  PREACHING. 

the  desk  in  Brattle  Street  for  four  Sabbaths  ;  but  I  wish 
that  this  engagement  may  not  be  considered  as  an  ex 
pression  or  intimation  of  a  final  determination  in  conse 
quence  of  any  future  proceedings  of  the  society." 

It  may,  perhaps,  excite  surprise  in  those  unacquainted 
with  our  society,  to  find  the  Brattle  Street  Church  so 
ready  to  invite  as  their  pastor  a  young  rnan  of  only 
twenty  years,  and  he  so  prompt  to  accept  such  large 
and  heavy  responsibilities.  It  had  been  the  habit  of 
the  place,  and  of  Brattle  Street  especially,  to  call  very 
young  men,  and,  if  they  were  found  inadequate,  to  give 
them  an  assistant  preacher,  and  that  the  society  pro 
posed  to  do  in  this  instance.  It  must  be  recollected, 
also,  that  Joseph,  though  young  in  age,  had  been  four 
years  preparing  for  his  profession,  and  that  he  had  a 
strong  conviction  that  only  a  short  time  would  be  al 
lowed  him  in  which  to  complete  his  work. 

His  preaching,  together  with  that  of  Rev.  W.  E. 
Channing,  who  had  just  been  settled  in  Federal  Street, 
was  said  by  Dr.  Kirkland  to  have  formed  an  era  in  the 
history  of  the  pulpit.  The  sermons  of  the  New  Eng 
land  divines  had  hitherto  been  rather  commentaries  upon 
Christian  doctrines  ;  or,  if  upon  ethical  subjects,  they 
were  supported  by  a  long  array  of  texts  of  Scripture  ; 
argumentative  they  were,  and  requiring  the  closest  atten 
tion  and  exercise  of  the  intellect  to  be  appreciated  and 
understood.  They  were  not  glowing  essays  addressed 
to  the  intellect,  the  heart,  and  the  affections,  like  the 
sermons  of  Channing,  who  had  just  begun  his  brilliant 
career,  and  whose  thoughtful  and  fervid  eloquence  drew 
to  him  crowds  of  devoted  and  admiring  listeners.  A 
contemporary  thus  speaks  of  Mr.  Buckminster  :  —  cc  I 
cannot  attempt  to  describe  the  delight  and  wonder  with 


EFFECT  OF  HIS  PREACHING.  189 

which  his  first  sermons  were  listened  to  by  all  classes 
of  hearers.  The  most  refined  and  the  least  cultivat 
ed  equally  hung  upon  his  lips.  The  attention  of  the 
thoughtless  was  fixed.  The  gayety  of  youth  was  com 
posed  to  seriousness  ;  the  mature,  the  aged,  the  most 
vigorous  and  enlarged  minds,  were  at  once  charmed, 
instructed,  and  improved."* 

Many  gifts  for  a  pulpit  orator  were  united  in  him,  but 
there  was  one  quality  that  made  his  preaching  so  emi 
nently  effective.  It  was  intellectual  sincerity.  The 
truths  he  enforced  were  not  only  clear  to  his  heart  and 
beautiful  to  his  imagination  ;  they  were  the  strongest 
faith  of  his  intellect.  He  not  only  loved  the  truths  he 
preached  for  their  softening  and  civilizing  influence  ;  he 
believed  likewise  that  they  were  the  power  of  God  unto 
salvation.  This  entire  conviction  of  the  intellect  is  aside 
from  moral  purity  or  pious  affections  ;  it  is  to  the  soul 
what  the  breath  of  life  is  to  the  body. 

His  father,  hearing  the  flattering  reports  of  his  preach 
ing,  writes  to  him  in  a  strain  calculated  to  chasten  the 
pride  of  applause,  and  apparently  without  any  elation 
himself. 

"  Dec.  3d,  1804. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON, Common  fame  speaks  of  your 

preaching  with  general  acceptance.  This  was  to  be  antici 
pated  from  the  expectation  that  was  raised  about  you,  but 
nothing  is  more  fickle  than  the  applause  of  the  multitude, 
excited  by  showy  talents.  Be  not  elated.  Your  own  letter 
intimates  that  your  friends  flatter  you  that  the  society  to 
which  you  arc  preaching  will  be  united  in  you.  If  they 
are  understandingly  united,  your  wishes  may  perhaps  be 

*  Mr.  Thacher's  Memoir. 


190  VOTE    OF    THE    PARISH. 

gratified.  Do  not,  my  son,  trust  to  the  favor  of  man  ;  look 
to  God,  from  whom  cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift; 
and  may  he  bless  you,  soul  and  body,  for  time  and  for 
eternity ! " 

On  November  10,  1804,  the  society  in  Brattle  Street 
voted,  with  only  one  dissentient  voice,  to  invite  him  to 
become  its  pastor.  The  proceedings  of  the  society 
were  as  follows  :  —  Judge  Sullivan,  Moderator.  Ma 
jor  Melville  made  a  motion  that  Mr.  Buckminster  should 
be  invited  to  preach  four  Sabbaths,  with  a  view  to  set 
tlement.  Seconded  by  H.  G.  Otis.  A  unanimous  vote. 
Mr.  Cooper  observed  that  he  was  not  sufficiently  in 
formed  of  Mr.  B.'s  orthodoxy,  and  threw  out  hints  of 
Arianisrn  and  Socinianism.  Judge  Sullivan  observed 
that  he  assented  to  the  church  covenant.  Mr.  Hancock 
observed  that  he  had  no  fears.  Mr.  Cooper  desired 
a  day  of  prayer.  It  was  overruled.  The  committee  of 
the  parish  were  desired  to  make  the  necessary  prepara 
tions  to  expedite  a  settlement  in  case  the  call  was  ac 
cepted. 

Thus  we  see,  that,  in  this  ancient  and  orthodox 
church,  there  was  no  concealment.  All  was  openly 
conducted.  The  candidate's  answer  was  given  upon 
the~second  succeeding  Sabbath.  He  does  not  attempt 
to  conceal  the  gratification  he  felt  in  finding  his  services 
so  highly  appreciated  by  them  ;  but,  not  having  com 
pleted  his  twenty-first  year,  his  youth  induces  him  to 
propose  that  a  colleague  should  be  settled  with  him. 

"  GENTLEMEN,  —  No  rule  of  propriety  or  delicacy  requires 
me  to  forbear  all  expression  of  pleasure  at  the  testimonies 
of  approbation  and  good-will  which  have  marked  the  pro- 


HIS    ANSWER.  191 

ceedings  of  your  society ;  neither  am  I  sensible  of  any  ad 
vantage  which  wQuld  result  from  the  longer  delay  of  an 
answer  to  an  invitation  adopted  with  such  unanimity,  and 
recommended  by  such  encouragement.  But  while  I  give 
you  this  early  intimation  that  I  have  concluded  to  accept 
your  proposals,  I  should  be  unfaithful  to  you  and  to  my 
self,  if  I  did  not  express  my  apprehensions  that  you  will  be 
called  to  overlook  many  deficiencies,  and  to  excuse  many 
mistakes,  in  one  whose  youth  and  consequent  inexperience, 
united  with  precarious  health,  will  ask  for  a  continuance 
of  all  the  indulgence  which  his  past  intercourse  with  you 
encourages  him  to  expect. 

"  If,  in  the  course  of  events,  an  opportunity  should  occur 
of  associating  with  me  another  pastor,  much  of  our  mutual 
anxiety  might  be  relieved,  and  the  interests  of  a  numerous 
society  judiciously  consulted.  But  if  the  cause  of  Christ 
should  not  be  found  to  suffer  from  the  insufficiency  of  my 
single  efforts,  I  trust  I  shall  be  disposed  to  thank  that  God 
in  whose  strength  alone  the  weak  are  strong,  in  whose  wis 
dom  the  inexperienced  are  wise,  and  with  whose  blessing 
the  most  feeble  labors  will  not  prove  unsuccessful.  If  God 
should  spare  my  life,  I  hope  some  of  its  most  cheerful  and 
permanent  consolations  will  be  found  in  the  uninterrupted 
harmony,  the  increasing  affection,  and  the  spiritual  improve 
ment  of  this  large  society.  To  instruct  the  ignorant,  to  re 
claim  the  wandering,  to  console  the  afflicted,  to  reconcile 
the  alienated,  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  to  give  no  offence  in  any  thing,  that  the 
ministry  be  not  blamed,  are  duties  which  no  pastor  can 
even  partially  perform,  unless  encouraged  by  your  utmost 
charity  and  aided  by  your  public  and  private  prayers. 

"  For  these,  then,  I  ask,  and  may  that  God  who  has  hither 
to  blessed  the  religious  interests  of  your  society  in  granting 
you  a  succession  of  luminaries  whose  light  has  not  yet  de 
parted,  though  their  orbs  have  set,  continue  to  build  you  up 


192  LETTER  FROM  HIS  FATHER. 

in  faith,  charity,  purity,  and  peace,  and  give  you  at  last  an 
inheritance  among  them  that  are  sanctified. 

"  J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER." 

The  noble,  considerate,  and  generous  sentiments  by 
which  the  Brattle  Street  society  were  ever  governed  in 
their  relations  with  him  ;  the  indulgence  with  which  they 
ever  regarded  his  youth,  and  the  consequent  deficiencies 
of  his  experience  ;  the  cordiality  with  which  they  met 
his  every  wish ;  the  tenderness  and  sympathy  with  which 
they  looked  upon  the  embarrassments  occasioned  by  his 
illness,  were  met  by  him  with  feelings  of  the  deepest 
gratitude.  The  time  that  he  was  their  pastor  was  ren 
dered  the  happiest  portion  of  his  life  ;  and  had  it  pleased 
God  to  lengthen  his  days,  the  tenderest  relations,  no 
doubt,  would  have  been  knit  between  them. 

His  father  was  now  consulted,  whether  he  would  take 
part  in  the  ordination.  The  son's  letters  are  lost,  but 
his  father  wrote  as  follows  :  — 

"  Dec.  14,  1804. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  received  your  letter  last  evening, 
having  been  expecting  one  for  several  days.  The  contents 
were  such  as  I  anticipated,  after  having  heard  of  the  par 
tiality  with  which  your  preaching  was  received.  If  that 
church  and  society  have  chosen  you  for  their  minister,  and 
you  choose  to  settle  with  them,  I  know  of  nothing  to  hinder 
it.  Every  society  has  a  right  to  choose  its  minister,  and  the 
minister  is  bound  to  follow  what  he  believes  to  be  the  lead 
ing  of  Providence.  I  suppose  the  votes  you  mention  were 
given  by  the  society,  not  by  the  church  in  distinction  from 
the  society ;  if  so,  there  is  some  informality  in  the  process. 
The  church  should  lead  in  calling  a  minister,  and  the  par 
ish  concur ;  for  parishes  are  not  known  in  the  Gospel,  nor 
in  ecclesiastical  councils.  I  know  not  whether  this  distinc 
tion  is  observed  in  Boston  and  its  vicinity. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  193 

"  You  will  doubtless,  my  son,  accept  the  call,  and  they 
will  wish  you  inducted  as  soon  as  possible.  Even  if  I  had  no 
scruples  upon  my  mind  respecting  the  sentiments  you  en 
tertain,  I  should  be  willing  to  be  excused  from  any  part  in 
the  tender  and  affecting  scene,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  spare 
you  from  that  anxiety  which  sons  feel  respecting  the  per 
formances -of  their  fathers.  And  under  present  circumstan 
ces  this  anxiety  will  be  increased  on  your  part,  lest  your 
orthodox,  or  rather,  bigoted,  father  should  mortify  you  with 
his  theology,  and  perhaps  offend  the  society  over  which 
you  are  to  be  settled.  Therefore  I  should  much  prefer 
to  be  left  out  of  the  affair 

44  It  is  a  great  and  arduous  work,  my  son,  upon  which 
you  are  entering ;  but  he  that  desires  the  office  of  a  Bishop 
desires  a  good  work ;  and  if  he  enter  upon  it  with  proper 
furniture,  with  right  views  and  motives,  sensible  where  his 
strength  lies,  he  will  be  supported  under  all  his  burdens, 
and  receive  out  of  the  fulness  that  there  is  in  Christ 
(in  whom  dwells  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily)  ac 
cording  to  his  necessities.  God  forbid  that  I  should  cease 
to  pray  for  you,  and  I  hope,  my  son,  that  you  will  maintain 
constant  and  fervent  prayer  in  your  closet.  Study  upon 
your  knees,  my  son,  and  search  the  Scriptures  with  humility 
and  prayer.  I  hope  God  will  guide  you  into  all  truth,  and 
that  the  Spirit  will  bring  to  your  remembrance  the  things 
wherein  you  have  been  instructed  in  your  youth. 

4t  As  you  will  now  be  a  minister  in  Boston,  where  tempta 
tions  and  dangers  are  many,  permit  a  father  to  exhort  you 
to  have  regard  to  your  health.  Resolve  fixedly  not  to  go 
to  large  dinners  or  entertainments  in  any  frequency ;  and 
do  not  join  parties  of  mere  amusement.  Your  predecessors 
were  perhaps  injured  by  such  indulgence,  and  their  lives 
shortened;  take  a  good  portion  of  regular  exercise,  not 
barely  in  visiting,  but  in  riding,  walking,  or  in  sawing  wood. 
1  hope  you  will  rise  early,  and  not  spend  your  nights  in 
17 


194  CORRESPONDENCE. 

study.  Sad  experience  will  teach  you  that  this  practice  is 
hurtful  to  the  delicate  structure  of  the  nerves.  I  can  say 
no  more,  but  commend  you  to  God.  Although  in  many 
things  I  have  doubtless  failed  in  parental  duty,  my  con 
science  testifies  that  I  have  always  had  at  heart  your  best 
good,  and  it  will  ever  be  a  subject  that  will  rise  up  and  lie 
down  with  me. 

u  P.  S.  As  I  have  expressed  in  the  letter,  it  will  be  more 
agreeable  to  me  to  take  no  part  in  the  act  of  your  settle 
ment  ;  but  if  it  should  be  your  wish  that  I  should  preach, 
I  suppose  that  could  be  done  without  my  taking  any  part 
in  the  council  of  ordination." 

"Dec.  31st,  1804. 

u  MY  DEAR  SON, Since  it  seems  to  be  your  wish 

that  I  should  attempt  to  preach  at  your  ordination,  I  have 
been  throwing  together  some  thoughts  upon  a  subject  not 
very  foreign  from  those  you  suggest  to  me,  but  they  are  at 
present  in  the  state  of  the  world  at  the  very  beginning  of  the 
creation.  I  shall  endeavour  to  reduce  them  to  some  form, 
in  order  that,  if  your  mothers  health  will  permit,  I  may  be 
able  to  be  with  you,  and  support  you,  on  the  day  that  must 
be  anticipated  by  you  with  great  seriousness  and  anxiety. 
I  would  by  no  means  dictate  to  you  respecting  a  preach 
er  in  case  I  should  fail,  but  I  am  sorry  that  Dr.  Morse 
should  be  unpopular  with  any  of  your  society,  or  that  you 
should  feel  as  if  any  of  the  society  did  not  esteem  and 
respect  him. 

"  If  I  were  as  much  of  a  Hopkinsian  on  some  points 
as  you,  my  son,  are  upon  others,  I  should  be  glad  they 
had  thought  of  Mr.  Appleton*  for  Cambridge  [for  Hollis 
Professor  of  Divinity].  I  think  there  is  no  man  so  likely 
to  render  calm  and  to  keep  quiet  the  two  opposite  parties, 
and  to  preserve  Cambridge  from  becoming  the  arena  of 

*  Afterwards  President  of  Brunswick  College. 


ORDINATION    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER.  195 

theological  discord ;  but  the  loss  to   me,  to  the   Academy, 
and  to  our  Association  would  be  irreparable. 

"  You  must  be  prepared  with  another  preacher,  lest  your 
mother's  health  should  forbid  my  being  with  you.  She 
has  frequent  ill  turns  that  chill  the  ardor  of  the  hopes  I 
sometimes  form  of  her  recovery.  I  desire  to  be  humble 
under  all  God's  rebukes,  and  receive  submissively  all  his 
dealings.  I  hope  the  clouds  he  spreads  over  my  prospects 
here  will  serve  to  brighten  the  scene  beyond  the  grave. 
Happy  he  who  can  say,  '  Yea,  doubtless  I  esteem  all  things 
but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ 
my  Lord.'  That  you  and  I,  my  dear  son,  may  have  this 
knowledge,  and  through  it,  comparatively,  despise  all  earth 
ly  things,  may  God  give  us  grace  sincerely  to  pray  ! 
"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"  J.  BUCKMINSTER." 

The  day  for  the  ordination  had  been  appointed  for 
the  30th  of  January,  just  a  year  after  the  society  had 
first  asked  him  to  preach  upon  probation,  when  he  had 
been  held  back  by  his  own  youth  and  his  father's  anx 
iety.  x\  most  severe  snow-storm  occurred  on  the  28th, 
but,  notwithstanding  the  depth*of  the  snow,  his  father 
arrived  the  evening  before  the  appointed  day. 

Joseph  makes  this  record  of  the  ordination  in  his 
journal  :  —  u  The  council  met  at  ten  o'clock.  Papers 
were  produced.  Dr.  Kirkland  moved  for  a  confession 
of  faith.  It  was  read.  No  objection  was  made  to  it. 
My  father  preached.  The  ordaining  prayer  was  by 
Dr.  Lathrop.  Charge  by  Dr.  Gushing.  Concluding 
prayer  by  Dr.  Morse.  Fellowship  of  the  churches 
by  Mr.  Emerson.  Psalm  and  benediction  by  myself. 
Every  thing  proceeded,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  with 
perfect  decorum,  and  the  solemnities  were  more  inter 
esting  than  usual." 


196  EXTRACT    FROM    DR.    BUCKMINSTER's 

The  sermon,  of  which  the  text,  chosen  by  Dr.  Buck- 
minster,  was,  u  Let  no  man  despise  thee,"  was  not 
certainly  one  of  his  happiest  efforts.  It  was  too  desul 
tory,  and,  as  he  said,  "  the  heart  of  a  parent,  that 
anxious,  busy  thing,  could  scarcely  be  diverted  from 
the  image  of  his  son  while  addressing  superiors  in  age 
and  standing." 

The  address  to  his  son  at  the  conclusion  is  now  deep 
ly  significant  to  those  who  know  the  peculiar  tenderness 
of  the  relation  between  them,  and  how  it  had  been 
strained  and  wounded  by  the  conscientious  scruples 
that  led.  them  to  different  conclusions  in  their  doctrinal 
sentiments. 

"  My  son,  the  day  has  arrived  in  which  you  are  to  be 
completely  invested  with  that  office,  divine  in  its  origin, 
important  in  its  design,  and  beneficent  in  its  influence,  of 
which  you  have  been  emulous  from  your  earliest  years,  and 
which  you  have  always  kept  in  view  in  your  literary  pur 
suits.  While  I  have  endeavoured  to  restrain  your  ardor  and 
check  the  rapidity  of  your  course,  motives  of  concern  for 
the  honor  of  God,  and  for  your  reputation  and  comfort,  in 
fluenced  my  conduct.  But  a  power  paramount  to  all  human 
influence  has  cast  the  die,  and  I  bow  submissively.  God's 
will  be  done  ! 

"  In  the  hours  of  parental  instruction,  when  my  speech 
and  affection  distilled  upon  you  as  the  dew,  you  have  often 
heard  me  refer  to  the  cheering  satisfaction  with  which  I 
presented  you  at  the  baptismal  fount,  in  the  name  of  the 
sacred  Trinity,  and  enrolled  you  among  the  members  of 
Christ's  visible  family ;  would  to  God  I  might  now  lead  you 
with  the  same  cheering  hope  to  the  altar  of  God,  and  lend 
you  to  the  Lord  as  long  as  you  shall  live !  But  the  da}rs 
are  past  in  which  you  can  depend  upon  the  offering  of  a 


ORDINATION    SERMON.  197 

parent.  To  your  own  Master  you  stand  or  fall.  God  grant 
the  response  may  be,  '  He  shall  be  holden  up,  for  God  is 
able  to  make  him  stand' ! " 

And  thus  he  pleaded  for  his  son  with  the  society  :  — 

"  The  heart  of  a  father,  alive  to  the  interests  of  a  son 
and  not  indifferent  to  the  honor  of  the  Gospel,  recoiled 
from  the  idea  of  his  beginning  his  ministerial  efforts  upon 
so  public  a  theatre,  and  before  so  enlightened  an  audience  ; 
and  the  hope  that  longer  delay  and  greater  experience 
would  render  him  more  equal  to  the  duties  of  the  ministry, 
and  more  worthy  of  the  esteem  and  respect  of  his  fellow- 
men,  induced  me  to  yield  with  reluctance  to  your  early  re 
quest  to  hear  him  as  a  candidate.  But  since  your  candor 
and  charity  have  silenced  my  scruples,  and  your  affection 
and  judgment  have  become  surety  for  the  youth,  and  he 
himself  has  said  '  he  will  go  with  you,'  I  yield  him  to  your 
request.  Bear  him  up  by  the  arms  of  faith  and  prayer. 
Remember  him  always  in  your  devotional  exercises.  May 
God  have  you  and  your  pastor  within  his  holy  keeping ! 
May  he  shed  down  upon  you  unitedly  his  celestial  dews, 
that  you  may  be  like  a  watered  garden,  and  like  a  spring 
whose  waters  fail  not!" 


17 


CHAPTER    XII. 

EXTRACTS  FROM   SERMONS.  ILLNESS.  MUSIC.  —  LETTERS. 

18o5.  THE  father,  having  left  his  Benjamin  in  Bos- 
Aged  21.  ton,  returned,  and  the  son  appeared  to  begin  his 
ministry  under  the  happiest  auspices  ;  but  he  enters  in 
his  journal,  immediately  after  the  ordination,  —  "  Alas  ! 
who  knows  what  is  before  him  ?  "  The  very  next  day 
he  was  seized  with  a  severe  fever,  brought  on,  no  doubt, 
by  anxiety  and  fatigue,  and  he  was  not  able  to  commence 
his  ministry  till  the  beginning  of  March.  Although  at 
first  a  severe  disappointment  to  him,  it  was  a  season  rich 
in  valuable  instruction.  Besides  the  lessons  of  patience 
and  resignation,  it  taught  him  the  value  of  sympathy,  and 
of  some  of  the  virtues  that  dwell  almost  exclusively  in  the 
sick-room,  -*-  the  endurance  and  unwearied  tenderness 
of  woman,  and  the  value  of  those  nameless  services,  that 
the  poorest  individual  may  render,  but  which  the  mines  of 
Peru  can  never  repay  ;  and  it  added  new  strength  and 
delicacy  to  the  bonds  of  friendship  he  was  just  beginning 
to  form  with  many  of  his  parish.  The  first  time  he 
preached,  instead  of  the  usual  addresses  upon  the  mutual 
duties  of  pastor  and  people,  he  took  the  text  from  the 
hundred  and  nineteenth  Psalm  :  —  "  It  is  good  for  me 
that  I  have  been  afflicted  "  ;  and,  from  some  passages 
of  the  sermon,  we  learn  how  deeply  he  felt  the  uncer- 


DISAPPOINTMENT    AND    TRIAL.  199 

tainty  of  his  blessings,  and  that  sinking  of  the  heart  which 
debility  and  lassitude  impose. 

"  Sickness  teaches  us,  not  only  the  uncertain  tenure,  but 
the  utter  vanity  and  unsatisfactoriness,  of  the  dearest  objects 
of  human  pursuit.  Introduce  into  the  chamber  of  a  sick  and 
dying  man  the  whole  pantheon  of  idols  which  he  has  vainly 
worshipped,  —  fame,  wealth,  pleasure,  beauty,  power, — 
what  miserable  comforters  are  they  all !  Bind  a  wreath  of 
laurel  round  his  brow,  and  see  if  it  will  assuage  his  aching 
temples.  Spread  before  him  the  deeds  and  instruments 
which  prove  him  the  lord  of  innumerable  possessions,  and 
see  if  you  can  beguile  him  of  a  moment's  anguish  ;  see  if  he 
will  not  give  you  up  those  barren  parchments  for  one  drop 
of  cool  water,  one  draught  of  pure  air.  Go  tell  him,  when 
a  fever  rages  through  his  veins,  that  his  table  smokes  with 
luxuries,  that  the  wine  moveth  itself  aright  and  giveth  its 
color  in  the  cup,  and  see  if  this  will  calm  his  throbbing 
pulse.  Tell  him,  as  he  lies  prostrate,  helpless  and  sinking 
with  debility,  that  the  song  and  dance  are  ready  to  begin, 
and  that  all  without  him  is  life,  alacrity,  and  joy.  Nay, 
more,  place  in  his  motionless  hand  the  sceptre  of  a  mighty 
empire,  and  see  if  he  will  be  eager  to  grasp  it.  This,  my 
friends,  this  is  the  school  in  which  our  desires  must  be  dis 
ciplined,  and  our  judgments  of  ourselves  and  the  objects  of 
our  pursuit  corrected." 

After  enumerating  some  of  the  lessons  taught  by  sick 
ness,  he  says  :  — 

"  We  beseech  you,  then,  do  not  mistake  us.  When  we 
discourse  to  you  of  the  beneficial  fruits  of  affliction,  we  talk 
of  no  secret  and  magical  power  which  sickness  possesses  to 
make  you  necessarily  and  immediately  good  and  wise  ;  but 
we  speak  of  fruits  which  must  form,  and  swell,  and  ripen,  — 
fruits  which  time  must  mature  and  watchfulness  preserve. 


200 


LETTER    UPON    HIS    ILLNESS. 


VVe  represent  sickness  as  a  discipline  which  you  must  live  to 
improve,  —  a  medicine  whose  operation  cannot  be  ascertained 
if  the  patient  dies  in  the  experiment.  O,  defer  not,  then,  I 
beseech  you,  defer  not  to  the  frantic  hours  of  pain,  to  the 
feverish  hours  of  disease,  to  the  languishing  hours  of  con 
finement, —  defer  not  till  then  an  attention  to  the  things 
which  concern  your  everlasting  peace.  You  think  they  will 
be  hours  of  leisure.  Believe  me,  it  will  be  the  leisure  of  dis 
traction  or  insensibility  ;  —  it  may  be  the  leisure  of  death." 

As  none  of  his  family  could  be  with  him  during  his 
illness,  he  became  acquainted  with  many  of  his  parish  in 
the  most  interesting  relation,  that  of  comforters  and 
cheerers  of  the  slow  hours  of  convalescence,  and  he 
formed  ties  of  gratitude  that  were  never  broken. 

His  father  wrote  to  him  every  three  or  four  days  during 
his  illness.  One  letter  only  is  inserted. 

"Feb.  9th,  1805. 

"  MY  BELOVED  SON,  —  We  enter  deeply  into  your  suffer 
ing  situation,  rendered  so  peculiarly  trying  to  you  by  the 
time  at  which  it  has  fallen  on  you,  just  as  you  had  received 
the  charge  of  a  church,  and  expected  to  appear  before  them 
as  their  minister ;  but  God  is  the  rock,  his  work  is  perfect. 
He  knows  how  to  time,  influence,  and  overrule  all  his  dis 
pensations  towards  us.  You  and  I,  perhaps,  both  needed  this 
check  to  our  vanity,  and  this  sensible  conviction  of  our  frail 
ty  and  dependence,  not  upon  ourselves,  but  upon  him.  It 
becomes  us  to  receive  evil  as  well  as  good  from  the  hand  of 
God,  and  we  shall  find  it  good  for  us  to  hope  and  quietly 
wait  for  his  salvation.  All  things  shall  work  together  for 
our  good  if  we  love  him,  and  are  called  according  to  his 
purposes. 

"  I  feel  confidence  that  you  are  in  the  midst  of  friends, 
who  will  do  every  thing  in  their  power  to  relieve  and  help 


CORRESPONDENCE.  201 

you.  Endeavour  to  be  submissive,  my  dear  son,  and  place 
your  ultimate  hope  and  dependence  upon  Him  who  is  able 
to  bring  sweetness  out  of  affliction.  I  trust  you  will  find  it 
good  that  you  have  been  afflicted.  It  may,  perhaps,  fur 
nish  you  with  thoughts  and  reflections  that  will  enable  you 
the  more  tenderly  to  sympathize  with  your  afflicted  people 
when  you  shall  be  called  to  see  them  and  to  administer  to 
thern  the  consolations  wherewith  you  have  yourself  been 
comforted  of  God.  We  hope,  also,  it  may  be  the  means 
of  making  a  change  in  your  constitution  that  shall  relieve 
you  of  the  malady  with  which  you  have  been  exercised. 
Endeavour,  my  son,  to  preserve  your  mind  as  free  as  possi 
ble  from  anxiety.  Your  pulpit  shall  be  supplied.  '  Commit 
your  way  to  the  Lord  and  he  shall  establish  it ;  trust  also  in 
him,  and  he  will  bring  it  to  pass.'  Although  your  pains 
are  severe  and  weakening,  we  trust  they  are  not  dangerous. 
If  your  disorder  should  put  on  any  fresh  appearance,  I  shall 
endeavour  to  go  up  and  see  you,  although  my  calls  at  home 
are  a  forbidding  circumstance  to  such  a  journey.  I  hope 
Mr.  Thacher  will  continue  to  write  as  often  as  he  thinks 
proper,  and  that  we  shall  soon  hear  pleasant  tidings  from 
you  ;  but  we  must  refer  all  to  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
God.  Good  night,  my  son.  I  hope  you  will  sleep  in  ease 
and  quietness." 

That  even  long  after  his  recovery  he  felt  deeply  the 
weight  of  responsibility  he  had  taken  upon  himself  ap 
pears  from  a  sermon  written  in  the  course  of  the  year. 

"  My  grace,  says  Jesus  to  the  drooping  apostle,  my 
grace  is  sufficient  for  thee.  Sufficient  for  what  ?  For 
health,  life,  toil  ?  Yes,  my  friends,  and  for  the  duties  of  a 
profession,  of  which  no  one  knew  better  than  this  feeble 
apostle  the  labors  and  the  responsibility.  In  a  frame  weak 
as  the  reed  which  every  blast  bends  to  the  dust,  he  bore  a 


202  EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS. 

spirit  which  disdained  the  iron  gripe  of  adversity  ;  a  spirit 
which  persecution  only  wrought  up  to  exertions  almost  mi 
raculous  ;  a  spirit  which  death  itself  could  only  set  free  to 
expatiate  in  the  rewards  to  which  it  had  continually  aspired. 
That  eloquent  apostle  understood  well  the  various  duties 
which  are  implied  in  the  cure  of  souls,  —  of  souls,  my 
friends,  the  most  precious  gems  in  the  circle  of  God's  gifts 
to  his  creation.  And  they  are  to  be  preserved,  too,  for  God 
himself;  they  are  to  be  prepared,  not  for  earth  only,  but 
for  heaven,  —  to  be  cleared  from  all  the  dross  that  now  in- 
crusts  them,  and  purified  for  a  region  of  spirits,  where  all 
is  pure,  intellectual,  and  godlike.  He,  then,  who  would  fit 
men  for  heaven  must  consult,  in  the  exercise  of  his  pastoral 
duties,  all  the  grades  of  human  capacity,  and,  what  is  more, 
all  the  varieties  of  human  disposition.  He  must  accomplish 
in  himself  that  rare  union  of  prudence  and  zeal,  of  caution 
and  earnestness,  which  it  is  the  hardest  problem  in  human 
character  to  combine.  He  has  to  secure  the  reception  of 
the  Gospel  with  which  he  is  put  in  trust,  principally  by 
throwing  light  upon  the  darkened  understandings,  or  by  seiz 
ing  upon  the  avenues  to  the  hardened  heart.  A  course  of 
instruction  that  might  gain  the  superficial  would  revolt  the 
wise  ;  and  the  rich,  the  enlightened,  or  the  consequential 
hearer  may  be  charmed,  while  the  poor  and  the  ignorant 
may  be  perishing  in  silence,  disappointment,  or  want.  Paul, 
when  he  harangued  the  polite  Athenians,  or  addressed  the 
judges  of  the  Areopagus,  selected  topics  and  employed  a 
style  which  would  not  have  gained  a  bigoted  Jew  within  the 
precincts  of  the  temple.  The  discourse  which  almost  per 
suaded  the  noble  Agrippa  to  be  a  Christian  is  the  most  clas 
sical  and  eloquent  in  the  Acts.  It  is  clothed  in  language 
which  would  not  have  betrayed  the  native  of  Tarsus  in  the 
most  polished  circle  of  Greece.  The  Epistle  to  the  He 
brews,  on  the  contrary,  if  it  be  really  the  work  of  the  Apos 
tle,  is  filled  with  arguments  of  which  the  force  could  be  felt 


EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS.  203 

only  by  a  superstitious  adherent  to  the  old  Mosaic  ceremo 
nies,  but  which  would  have  been  to  the  Athenians  ridiculous 
and  unintelligible.  So,  also,  at  the  present  day,  a  wise  and 
faithful  pastor  cannot  hope  to  reclaim  an  acute  and  pol 
ished  skeptic  by  the  usual  appeals  to  authority,  or  by  bring 
ing  up  in  array  the  commonplaces  of  theology.  A  delicate 
and  sensitive  spirit,  open,  candid,  and  seeking  earnestly  for 
the  truth,  is  not  to  be  treated  like  a  bigoted  understanding, 
obscured  with  prejudice  acquired  too  early  to  be  remem 
bered,  and  incrusted  too  deep  to  be  washed  away  with  per 
suasion.  There  are  some  men,  of  strong,  unpolished,  native 
intellect,  who  are  affected  by  reasonings,  illustrations,  and 
persuasions  far  different  from  those  adapted  to  minds  which 
have  been  enriched  by  the  learning  or  polished  by  the  taste 
of  the  times.  In  the  differences,  too,  of  opinion  which  will 
be  found  among  believers,  the  aged  and  opinionated  must 
see  that  his  opinions  are  respected,  even  when  they  are 
doubted  ;  and  he  must  not  always  suppose  them  to  be  be 
lieved  when  they  have  not  been  controverted.  The  young 
and  the  presumptuous  must  be  checked  with  caution,  lest 
he  should  become  indifferent  or  hostile ;  but  he  must  be 
seasonably  converted,  lest  he  should  perish  in  the  vanity  of 
fashionable  unbelief,  or  the  pride  of  intellectual  speculations. 
In  short,  Christianity  is  to  be  recommended  to  all  the  vari 
ous  measures  of  human  capacity,  now  by  reasonings,  then 
by  persuasion  ;  here  by  removing  prejudices,  and  there  by 
strengthening  them ;  sometimes  by  appeals  to  the  heart, 
sometimes  to  the  intellect,  sometimes  to  the  hopes,  and 
sometimes  to  the  fears  ;  in  one  word,  by  means  as  various 
as  the  minds  which  the  light  of  celestial  truth  is  intended 

by  its  Author  to  illumine 

"  Consider,  too,  that  all  these  complicated  duties  of  the 
Christian  minister  are  enjoined  by  especial  sanctions.  He 
is  immediately  and  peculiarly  responsible  to  his  God.  In 
his  eye,  the  day  of  his  examination  is  perpetually  present. 


204  EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS. 

Hardly  dare  I  speak  to  you  on  this  subject,  my  friends. 
Hardly  dare  I  to  think  of  the  inexpressible  anguish  with 
which  I  should  learn,  in  that  solemn  day  of  my  account,  that 
this  man  was  made  an  unbeliever  by  some  unwise  state 
ment  of  mine  ;  this  youth  was  fixed  in  an  error,  which  has 
colored  his  whole  life,  by  my  injudicious  treatment  of  his 
doubts ;  this  gay  spirit  was  lost  by  my  omitting  an  oppor 
tunity  of  making  a  serious  impression  upon  his  heart,  while 
it  was  intenerated  by  sorrow ;  that  fine  understanding  was 
shattered  by  an  affliction,  which  I  might  have  assisted  him 
to  bear  had  I  communicated  earlier  the  consolations  of  the 
Gospel  to  his  heart,  and  here  is  a  dear  friend,  whose  sin  I 
neglected  to  reprove ;  how  awfully  is  his  account  length 
ened  because  I  stood  beside  him  a  silent  witness  of  a  single 
fault !  But  the  subject  is  too  painful,  I  will  not  pursue  it. 

"  O  God,  I  prostrate  myself  in  the  dust  before  thee,  and 
acknowledge  my  insufficiency  !  What  in  me  is  dark  do 
thou  illumine  ;  what  is  low  raise  and  support ;  what  is 
wavering  establish  ;  what  is  weak  strengthen  ;  what  is  wrong 
forgive !  Let  but  thy  blessing  follow  me,  and  then  what  is 
sown  in  weakness  shall  be  raised  in  power,  to  thy  glory  and 
to  everlasting  life." 

Mr.  Buckminster  wanted  a  few  months  of  twenty-one 
years,  when  he  began  his  ministry  in  one  of  the  largest 
societies  in  Boston.  By  the  conditions  of  the  will  by 
which  the  parsonage-house  was  given  to  the  Brattle 
Street  parish,  in  perpetuity,  the  minister  for  the  time  be 
ing  is  obliged  to  make  it  the  place  of  his  constant  resi 
dence.  Convenient,  and  in  many  respects  eligible,  it  is, 
by  its  public  and  exposed  situation,  near  the  courts  and 
lawyers'  offices,  and  not  far  from  the  commercial  part  of 
the  city,  a  noisy  abode  for  one  who  wishes,  in  his  hours 
of  retirement,  to  be  a  diligent  and  absorbed  student. 


MR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  STUDY.  205 

Its  accessibility  to  the  then  busiest  part  of  the  town  ex 
posed  him  to  perpetual  interruptions  in  the  day-time,  and 
led  to  the  habit  of  prolonging  his  hours  of  study  far  into 
the  night.  The  house  was  also  too  large  for  one  who 
had  no  family,  and  no  prospect  of  forming  family  con 
nections.  He  went  into  the  house,  therefore,  as  a 
boarder  with  the  persons  already  there,  reserving  a  large 
and  pleasant  room  for  his  study.  This  was  soon  made 
extremely  attractive  by  the  number  of  books  it  was  his 
delight  to  collect,  and  by  the  interesting  pamphlets  and 
literature  of  the  day,  scattered  all  over  his  round  study- 
table.  It  was  the  centre  of  attraction  for  all  his  young 
friends,  and  for  the  elders  among  the  clergy,  and  was 
soon  called  the  "  ministers'  exchange." 

Soon  after,  for  his  own  private  recreation,  he  added 
a  chamber  organ  to  this  room,  where,  in  the  pauses  of 
his  hours  of  study,  he  delighted  to  indulge  his  passion 
for  music.  It  was  at  first  a  solitary  recreation,  but  soon 
he  induced  his  choir  to  meet  there  to  practise  ;  and  in 
subsequent  years  he  had  concerts  in  his  house. 

If  any  among  the  living  remember  this  study,  they 
will  recollect  its  cheerful  aspect  in  the  sunshine  of  win 
ter,  and  the  air  of  retirement  that  was  given  to  it  by 
the  closed  blinds  in  summer,  and,  above  all,  the  cor 
dial,  the  cheering,  the  glowing  expression  of  affectionate 
kindness  with  which  he  welcomed  his  friends.  Here 
were  passed  his  happiest  days,  in  pursuits  most  congen 
ial,  and  perhaps  too  attractive,  for  his  uncertain  health 
and  frail  organization.  Fortunately,  the  office  of  a  cler 
gyman  in  Boston  does  not  allow  of  exclusive  devotion 
to  study.  To  borrow  the  words  of  another,  "It  is  the 
general  habit  of  the  place  for  the  individuals  of  each 
society  to  make  their  minister  a  part  almost  of  their 
18 


206  INTIMATE    CONNECTION 

families,  a  sharer  of  their  joys  and  sorrows,  —  one  who 
has  always  access  to  them,  and  is  always  welcomed  with 

distinguished   confidence    and    affection This 

intimate  connection  with  his  people,  although,  to  a  man 
of  any  sensibility,  a  source  of  the  most  exquisite  grati 
fications  of  the  human  heart,  makes  a  great  addition 
to  his  toils.  It  makes  a  deep  inroad  upon  the  time  he 
would  give  to  study,  and  almost  compels  him  to  redeem 
it  from  the  hours  which  ought  to  be  given  to  exercise 
or  repose.  By  the  variety  and  painful  interest,  also, 
of  the  scenes  and  occupations  to  which  it  calls  him,  the 
mind  is  often  agitated  and  worn  down  ;  while  the  re 
flection,  which  it  is  impossible  always  to  exclude,  of  the 
insufficient  ability  with  which  his  duties  are  performed, 
and  the  inadequate  returns  he  can  make  for  the  friend 
ship  and  confidence  he  receives,  must  often  come  over 
and  oppress  his  spirits."  * 

The  above  remarks  apply  more  directly  to  the  rela 
tion  which  existed  between  ministers  and  people  in  the 
good  city  of  Boston,  at  the  close  of  the  last  century. 
Ministers  were  then  expected  to  spend  a  very  large  por 
tion  of  their  time  in  visiting  the  different  families  of  their 
parishes.  The  intimacy  was  so  close  that  every  joy 
and  sorrow,  every  item  of  good  fortune,  and  every  trial, 
however  light,  was  imparted  to  the  sympathizing  friend. 
The  infant,  from  the  hour  of  its  baptism,  was  one  of  the 
lambs  of  his  flock.  If  a  boy,  his  progress  was  watched 
through  the  successive  schools,  and  after  he  entered  the 
college  or  the  counting-room.  If  a  daughter,  the  minister 
fixed  his  paternal  and  indulgent  eye  upon  her,  till  he 
was  called  to  consecrate  her  union,  probably  with  an- 

*  Memoir  bv  Mr.  Timelier. 


OF    MINISTERS    WITH    THEIR    PARISHES.  207 

other  of  his  flock  ;  and  at  the  marriage-supper,  the  hon 
ored  place  at  the  left  hand  of  the  bride  was  reserved 
for  him. 

The  minister  and  his  flock  passed  through  life,  render 
ing  to  each  other  countless  mutual  services  ;  and,  when 
the  pastor  stood  at  the  grave  of  a  parishioner,  paying 
the  last  tribute  of  earth  to  earth,  he  felt  as  though  he 
had  lost  a  member  of  his  household.  The  sermons  of 
such  a  minister  could  be  neither  searching  nor  pungent. 
He  looked  so  nearly  into  his  parish,  that  their  faults 
must  have  been  lost  to  the  mental  eye,  by  the  thousand 
excuses  he  was  impelled  to  make  for  them.  Then  he 
could  scarcely  speak  of  faults  and  follies  which  he  had 
observed,  without  making  an  application  so  distinct  as 
to  rend  the  veil  of  charity  which  should  cover  a  multi 
tude  of  sins. 

The  young  ministers  who  were  settled  at  the  begin 
ning  of  this  century  found  it  necessary  to  modify  in  some 
degree  the  custom  of  the  place,  —  to  spend  less  time 
at  the  social  fireside  and  more  at  the  study-table.  If 
they  would  render  their  sermons  such  as  would  satisfy 
themselves,  and  such  as  their  societies  demanded,  they 
must  give  up  the  enjoyment  of  the  almost  daily  hospi 
tality  of  some  kind  parishioner  ;  and  the  fine  leg  of  mut 
ton  or  the  famous  turkey  must  be  eaten  without  the  bless 
ing  being  asked  over  it  by  the  favorite  minister.  The 
time  which  was  gained  by  briefer  and  less  frequent  visits 
was  devoted  to  the  mental  preparation,  by  which  their 
sermons  gained  in  richness  of  thought,  in  power  and 
eloquence.  Certainly  there  is  no  place  on  the  face  of 
the  globe,  where  discourses  from  the  pulpit  are  of  a 
higher  standard  of  excellence  than  in  Boston. 

That  Mr.   Buckminster  began,  immediately  after  his 


208  DELIGHT    IN    MUSIC. 

ordination,  to  acquaint  himself  intimately  with  his  parish, 
appears  from  a  manuscript  book,  alphabetically  arranged, 
of  every  family,  and  of  many  persons,  belonging  to  the 
Brattle  Street  society.  The  number  of  persons  forming 
the  different  families,  the  occupation  of  the  parents,  the 
names  of  the  children,  are  recorded  ;  then  are  added,  in 
Latin  or  French,  remarks,  notices,  and  characteristics, 
important  only  for  him  to  know  as  their  friend  and  spir 
itual  adviser. 

The  object  that  next  claimed  his  warmest  interest 
and  attention  was  'the  singing  of  the  choir  of  Brattle 
Street  Church.  I  have  mentioned  his  exquisite  ear,  and 
the  passionate  love  of  music  that  appeared  in  his  earliest 
years.  Before  he  went  to  Exeter  Academy,  he  had 
learned  to  blow  the  flute,  but  was  discouraged  by  his 
father,  who  feared  the  effect  upon  his  health.  He  after 
wards  took  some  lessons  on  the  violin  and  violoncello, 
but  relinquished  them,  as  creating  a  too  passionate  love, 
that  encroached  upon  his  other  studies  ;  but,  as  soon  as 
he  could  unite  his  favorite  pursuit  with  the  improvement 
of  the  church  music,  he  began  to  learn  to  practise  upon 
the  organ.  His  own  voice  was  eminently  musical,  and 
his  enthusiasm  was  scarcely  permitted  any  bounds  when 
he  could  induce  a  fine  voice  of  either  male  or  female 
performer  to  join  the  choir.  One  evening  in  the  week 
was  devoted  to  practising  with  the  church  singers  in  his 
own  study,  and  these  were  truly  his  hours  of  relaxation 
and  delight.  He  was  sometimes  so  fascinated  and  lost 
in  the  sounds  he  could  himself  draw  from  the  organ, 
that  his  sister,  leaving  him  after  one  of  these  evenings, 
and  thinking  he  would  immediately  retire,  awoke,  far 
in  the  night,  still  hearing  the  organ  from  his  study,  and, 


MEETINGS    FOR    RELIGIOUS    IMPROVEMENT.  209 

upon  going  down,  found  him  still  sitting  at  the  instrument, 
wholly  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time. 

A  few  years  after,  he  assisted  in  making  a  collection 
of  tunes  for  sacred  music.  He  devoted  much  time  and 
labor  in  comparing  and  arranging  such  as  were  suited, 
either  from  their  intrinsic  value  or  from  their  sacred 
or  tender  associations,  to  the  worship  of  the  church  ; 
and  I  believe  the  Brattle  Street  Collection,  though 
small,  is  esteemed  a  valuable  selection  of  tunes,  even 
by  musicians. 

One  other  evening  in  the  week  was  devoted  at  this 
time  to  young  men  of  his  own  age,  and  even  younger, 
whom  he  could  induce  to  meet  him  at  his  study  and  con 
verse  upon  moral  and  religious  subjects.  There  was 
no  formality  in  this  meeting.  It  was  not  called  a  prayer- 
meeting,  nor  a  meeting  for  inquiry  ;  no  publicity  was 
given  to  it,  and  those  who  attended  it  were  not  subjected 
to  observation  from  others.  Induced  by  his  invitation, 
or  by  the  attractiveness  which  his  own  youth  gave  to 
religion,  many  went  to  open  to  him  their  anxieties, 
to  satisfy  an  inquiring  spirit,  to  seek  direction  for  a 
doubting  mind,  to  find  a  balm  for  an  awakened  con 
science,  or  to  inquire  the  path  to  religious  peace.  Pri 
vacy  was  secured  by  removing  the  light  from  the  entry, 
which  usually  indicated  that  he  was  from  home,  and  the 
evening  was  closed  with  prayer.  One  of  the  objects 
of  this  meeting  was  to  suggest  and  to  lend  books  to 
those  young  persons  who  evinced  a  taste  for  reading  and 
self-improvement.  May  we  not  suppose  that  many  young 
men,  who  afterwards  led  eminently  Christian  lives,  re 
ceived  some  of  their  best  religious  impressions  from  these 
evening  meetings  ? 

18* 


210  HANNAH  ADAMS'S 

About  this  time  he  corrected  for  the  press  Miss  Han 
nah  Adams's  History  of  New  England,  and  made  such 
alterations  for  a  second  edition  as  were  advisable  to  ren 
der  the  book  as  plain  and  familiar  as  was  consistent  with 
elegance  of  style.  By  this  and  other  acts  of  friendship, 
he  secured  the  grateful  attachment  of  that  simple,  un 
assuming  nature,  the  childlike  innocency  of  whose  mind 
and  manners  formed  a  curious  contrast  with  the  ab 
struse  character  of  her  investigations  and  pursuits. 

At  a  little  later  period  of  his  life,  while  Miss  Adams 
was  compiling  her  history  of  the  Jews,  the  most  fre 
quent  visitors  to  his  study  perceived,  as  they  entered, 
seated  at  the  same  table  with  him,  diligently  compiling 
her  notes,  and  abstracted  completely  from  present  things, 
the  unassuming  and  plainly  attired  form  of  this  simple 
old  lady.  She  was  so  familiar  and  so  quiet,  that,  though 
they  pursued  their  studies  many  days  and  weeks  to 
gether,  they  never  disturbed  or  interrupted  each  other. 
The  author  of  the  Memoir  of  Miss  Mams  *  has  given 
so  interesting  an  account  of  their  intercourse,  that  the 
writer  avails  herself  of  it  here. 

"  It  was  on  a  visit  to  Boston  that  Miss  Adams  first  saw 
Mr.  Buckminster.  He  was  then  about  sixteen  years  old. 
Those  who  knew  him  well  will  not  think  her  description 
an  exaggerated  one.  4  He  had  then,'  she  said,  '  the  bloom  of 
health  on  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  of  genius  in  his  eye ;  I  did 
not  know  from  which  world  he  came,  whether  from  heaven 
or  earth.'  Though  so  young,  he  entered  fully  into  her  char 
acter,  and,  before  they  parted,  gave  her  a  short  but  compre 
hensive  sketch  of  the  state  of  literature  in  France  and  Ger 
many.  After  he  became  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street  Church, 

*  Mrs.  George  G.  Lee. 


DESCRIPTION    OF    MR.    BUCKMINSTER.  211 

he,  with  Mr.  Stephen  Higginson  and  Mr.  Shaw,  the  active 
founder  of  the  Athenseum,  proposed  to  Miss  Adams  to  re 
move  to  Boston  ;  at  the  same  time  procuring  for  her,  through 
the  liberal  subscription  of  a  few  gentlemen  and  ladies,  an 
annuity  for  life.  She  had  then  commenced  her  History  of 
the  Jews,  and  nothing  could  have  been  more  favorable  to 
its  progress  or  her  own  ease  of  mind,  than  this  benevolent 
arrangement.  She  could  never  speak  of  her  benefactors 
without  deep  emotion. 

"  From  Mr.  Buckminster  she  received  the  most  judicious 
and  extensive  assistance.  She  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
him  in  his  study,  and  had  his  invitation  to  come  when  she 
pleased,  and  sit  and  read  as  long  as  she  pleased,  or  to  take 
any  books  home  and  use  them  like  her  own.  Perhaps  peo 
ple  are  never  perfectly  easy  with  each  other  till  they  feel 
at  liberty  to  be  silent  in  each  other's  society.  It  was  stipu 
lated  between  these  students  that  neither  party  should  be 
obliged  to  talk.  But  her  own  language  will  best  describe 
her  feelings.  '  Mr.  Buckminster  would  sometimes  read  for 
hours  without  speaking.  But,  occasionally,  flashes  of  gen 
ius  would  break  forth  in  some  short  observation  or  sudden  re 
mark,  which  electrified  me.  I  never  could  have  gone  on  with 
my  history  without  the  use  of  his  library.  I  was  indebted 
to  him  for  a  new  interest  in  life.  He  introduced  me  to  a 
valuable  circle  of  friends ;  and  it  was  through  him  that  I 
became  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Bowdoin,  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Dearborn,)  whose  kindness  and  attention  to  me  have  been 
unceasing.  Mr.  Buck  minster's  character  was  the  perfection 
of  humanity.  His  intellectual  powers  were  highly  culti 
vated  and  ennobled.  Yet  even  the  astonishing  vigor  and 
brightness  of  his  intellect  was  outdone  by  the  goodness  of 
his  heart.' 

"  Mr.  Buckminster  assisted  Miss  Adams's  researches,  and 
procured  her  information  for  her  History  of  the  Jews.  He 
took  a  warm  interest  in  this  oppressed  people,  and  often 


212  PERSONAL    QUALITIES. 

prayed  for  them  at  the  communion  service  in  the  same  lan 
guage  in  which  Jesus  prayed  for  them  :  ;  Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  ! ' 

"  It  is  impossible  not  to  look  back  with  admiration  upon 
the  benevolence  that  prompted  these  kind  attentions  ;  and  it 
is  not  a  difficult  effort  of  the  imagination  to  enter  the  library, 
and  view  these  laborious  and  widely  dissimilar  students  to 
gether.  The  one  distinguished  by  the  natural  ease,  grace, 
and  elegance  of  his  manners ;  the  other,  timid  and  helpless. 
The  one,  advancing  with  the  elastic  step  of  youth  ;  the  other, 
declining  into  the  vale  of  years ;  yet  both  drawn  together 
by  those  sympathies  which  spring  from  the  fountain  of  per 
fect  and  everlasting  good.  Who  would  not  be  touched  by 
the  spectacle,"  adds  Mrs.  Lee,  "  of  a  young  man  of  such 
distinguished  talents,  equally  sought  by  the  world  of  science 
and  of  fashion,  extending  a  helping  hand  and  devoting  so 
large  a  portion  of  his  time  to  a  timid  and  unassuming  wom 
an,  shrinking  from  the  ills  of  life,  but  who  derived  her  hap 
piness  from  the  same  sources  that  he  did,  —  literature  and 
religion  ?  When,  from  indisposition,  she  omitted  for  any 
length  of  time  her  visits  to  his  study,  a  kind  note,  or  a  still 
kinder  visit,  alleviated  the  infirmities  of  her  health."  * 

Miss  Adams  herself  remarks  :  —  "  I  could  not  have 
completed  my  History  of  the  Jews,  if  I  had  not  been 
animated  and  encouraged  by  his  participating  in  the  in 
terest  I  felt  in  this  extraordinary  people.  Though  en 
tering  into  the  details  of  the  sufferings  of  the  persecuted 
Jewish  nation,  yet  the  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  Buckminster 
inspired  me,  and  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  him 
upon  a  subject  with  which  he  was  intimately  acquainted 
rendered  the  time  I  was  writing  my  History  one  of  the 
happiest  periods  of  my  life." 

*  From  Mrs.  George  G.  Lee's  Memoir  of  Miss  Hannah  Adams. 


PERSONAL    QUALITIES.  213 

This  was  only  one  of  many  instances  in  which  he 
encouraged,  animated,  and  helped  the  timid  and  the  un 
assuming,  and  aided  retiring  merit.  Among  his  private 
papers  are  many  memorandums  of  sums  obtained  from 
ladies  of  his  parish  for  the  indigent,  or  for  those  who, 
like  Miss  Adams,  asked  only  the  encouragement  and 
sympathy  of  friendship.  His  calls  upon  their  bounty 
seem  never  to  have  been  denied ;  and  among  those 
whose  names  appear,  Mrs.  Bowr4oin,  Winthrop,  Ly- 
man,  Otis,  Mrs.  S.  Cobb,  —  all  have  gone  to  reap  the 
'reward  of  their  beneficence. 

Perhaps  there  never  was  a  period  in  the  whole  of 
his  short  life,  when  he  was  more  attractive  to  his  friends, 
or  more  valuable  to  society.  His  activity  was  un 
wearied,  his  cheerfulness  had  known  no  blight  ;  for  the 
uncertainty  that  hung  over  his  life  was  habitual  to  his 
thoughts,  and  was  merely  a  check  to  the  too  impetuous 
pursuit  of  the  riches  of  the  mind. 

"  So  winning  was  his  aspect  and  address, 
His  smile  so  rich  in  bright  felicities, 
Accordant  to  a  voice  that  charmed  no  less, 
That  who  but  saw  him  once,  remembered  long; 
And  some  in  whom  such  images  are  strong, 
Have  hoarded  the  impression  in  their  heart, 
Fancy's  fond  dreams  and  memories  among, 
Like  some  loved  relics  of  romantic  song, 
Or  cherished  master-piece  of  ancient  art." 

Since  his  settlement,  his  malady  had  very  much  in 
creased.  He  had  scarcely  been  settled  ten  months, 
when  he  wrote  in  his  journal,  October  31st,  1805,  — 
"  Another  fit  of  epilepsy.  I  think  I  perceive  my 
memory  fails  me  !  O  God,  save  me  from  that  hour  ! " 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  this  perpetual  admonition  of 
his  frailty,  there  never  was  a  person  in  whom  life  was 


214  PERSONAL    QUALITIES. 

more  joyous  and  gladsome.  He  had  a  great  deal  of 
the  Greek  in  his  disposition.  He  entered  deeply  into 
life.  Every  thing  in  nature,  every  external  object  of 
life  and  beauty,  was  a  source  of  joy  to  him.  His  inti 
mate  friend  and  biographer  observes,  "His  head  re 
sembled  the  finest  models  of  the  antique,"  —  and  though 
certainly  the  form  of  the  head  is  not  an  infallible  sign 
of  the  intellectual  powers,  yet  the  character  here  con 
formed  to  the  head..  Life,  sentient  life,  was  exuberant 
in  him,  like  a  morning  in  spring.  He  saw  harmony, 
and  grace,  and  beauty  every  where,  from  the  smallest 
flower  that  sips  the  dew  to  the  brightest  star  that  shines 
in  the  firmament. 

"  The  meanest  floweret  of  the  vale, 
The  simplest  note  that  swells  the  gale, 
The  common  sun,  the  air,  the  skies, 
To  him  were  opening  paradise." 

Although  he  was  eminently  spiritual,  and  the  unseen 
world  was  not  a  world  of  shadows,  but  of  realities,  to 
him,  there  was  nothing  mystical  in  the  tendencies  of  his 
mind.  What  would  have  been  the  result  of  the  Ger 
man  studies  which  he  was  just  beginning  at  his  death, 
can  only  be  conjectured.  The  mystical  element  might 
have  been  developed  as  he  proceeded  in  his  inquiries. 
The  joyousness  of  the  present  might  have  been  lost  in 
unsuccessful  researches  after  the  obscure  and  hidden  ; 
and  the  rational  interpretation  of  that  which  was  vouch 
safed  to  his  serious  studies,  might  have  been  involved  in 
gropings  after  the  impenetrable  secrets  of  the  future. 

To  return  for  a  few  moments  to  Dr.  Buckminster, 
He  was  at  this  time  passing  through  one  of  the  severest 
afflictions  of  his  life,  and,  although  only  fifty-four  years 


DEATH    OF    MRS.    BUCKMINSTER.  215 

old,  there  appeared  to  be  a  general  breaking  up  of  the 
fountains  of  health.  The  immediate  cause  was  the  death 
of  his  wife,  to  whom  he  had  been  attached  with  a  pas 
sionate  regard,  exceeding  that  which  he  would  have 
approved  in  another  to  any  earthly  object.  She  had 
formed,  as  he  says  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  the  happi 
ness  and  the  ornament  of  his  home,"  and  now  he  was 
bereft  of  the  sweetness  of  life.  Joseph,  recording  her 
death  in  his  journal,  writes  with  fervor,  "  O  God,  sup 
port  my  dear  father  !  "  To  afford  his  own  aid  in  com 
forting  him,  he  went  immediately  to  Portsmouth,  and 
spent  more  than  a  week,  preaching  for  his  father  two 
Sabbaths. 

Although  her  illness  had  been  long,  her  death  at  the 
last  was  sudden  and  unexpected.  It  threw  Dr.  Buck- 
minster  into  an  agony  of  grief,  in  which  his  friends  feared 
for  his  life  or  his  reason.  The  whole  of  the  night  and 
day  following  her  decease,  he  remained  overwhelmed 
with  sorrow,  his  agitated  footsteps  pacing  to  and  fro  in 
his  study,  so  that  even  his  children  feared  to  approach 
him.  He  was  left  with  a  family  of  seven  children,  four  of 
them  being  very  young.  His  eldest  daughters  were  now 
old  enough  to  take  charge  of  the  family,  and  he,  soon 
recovering  his  calmness  and  faith,  presided  over  them 
with  a  firmness  and  decision  scarcely  looked  for  in  a 
man  so  tender  in  his  affections.  But  it  is  the  hardest 
and  finest  of  materials,  that,  when  drawn  out  into  delicate 
chords,  vibrates  at  every  breath,  and  thrills  at  the  touch 
of  joy  or  sorrow. 

Dr.  Buckminster  was  very  anxious  to  keep  his  family 
together,  and  that  they  should  depend  upon  the  senti 
ment  of  affection  and  union  for  their  happiness.  I 
have  endeavoured  to  express  the  intensity  of  the  relig- 


216  CORRESFONDENCE. 

ious  sentiment  in  his  life  ;  be  was  no  less  anxious  to 
enforce  the  absence  of  all  worldliness,  and  the  depend 
ence  of  the  heart  upon  spiritual  good  and  mutual  affec 
tion,  as  the  aliment  of  life  to  his  family.  It  may,  per 
haps,  provoke  a  smile,  in  these  days,  when  material  in 
terests  are  so  supreme,  and  life  seems  mean  and  homely 
without  the  addition  of  luxury,  to  say,  that  his  family  en 
joyed  many  of  the  best  luxuries  of  the  mind,  and  felt 
themselves  rich,  when  his  income  could  never  have 
reached  the  amount  of  a  thousand  dollars.  With  this 
sum,  at  a  time  when  the  expenses  of  an  education  were 
much  less  than  at  present,  he  was  able  to  educate  both 
his  sons  at  Harvard  University. 

The  letters  of  my  brother  that  follow  close  the  year. 

"  August,  1805. 

"  MY  DEAR  SISTER,  —  I  have  purchased  a  very  beautiful 
little  book,*  which  I  wish  you  to  accept,  though  you  have 
not,  as  the  lady  to  whom  these  letters  were  addressed,  been 
presented  with  a  set  of  the  British  poets,  (which  I  hope, 
however,  one  day  to  be  able  to  send  you,)  for  some  of  them 
I  know  often  amuse  the  leisure  of  young  ladies,  and  I  trust 
will  not  long  be  unknown  to  you.  If  I  should  meet  with  any 
thing  equally  elegant  and  pleasing,  E.  shall  not  be  forgotten. 
These  letters  are  written  by  one  of  the  most  correct  and  im 
partial  critics  now  living. 

"  I  know  not  but  I  ought  to  have  written  to  both  of  you 
while  you  were  left  alone  at  the  head  of  the  family ;  if  I 
have  been  negligent,  let  this  acknowledgment  plead  my 
excuse.  I  hope,  by  the  time  this  letter  reaches  you,  you 
have  been  relieved  from  anxiety  by  my  father's  return. 
Write  to  me  particularly  about  the  state  of  his  health; 
whether  it  is  amended  by  the  journey  ;  whether  the  inci- 

*  Aiken's  Letters  upon  the  British  Poets. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  217 

dents  of  it  were  agreeable  ;  his  companion  pleasant ;  wheth 
er  his  expectations  were  answered  ;  and,  above  all,  whether 
his  spirits  and  comfort  are  in  any  degree  recovered.  Would 
to  God  that  the  duties  of  my  parish  had  allowed  me  to  be  his 
companion ! 

*•'•  I  have  been  very  much  employed  of  late  in  parochial 
duty,  owing  to  the  great  sickness  among  children.  Within 
the  last  month,  I  have  attended  eleven  funerals. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother. 

"  P.  S.  I  hear  nothing  of  the  baby  and  nurse  in  any  of 
papa's  letters.  I  believe  he  thinks  me  a  kind  of  creature  who 
does  not  care  much  whether  you  are  dead  or  alive.  How 
ever,  it  is  true  that  I  am  pretty  much  absorbed  in  myself,  my 
sermons,  my  parish,  my  singing,  and  other  occupations." 

"  December,  1805. 

"  MY  DEAR  BROTHER, — Nothing  has  given  me  more 
pleasure  than  to  hear  of  the  happy  turn  which  your  inclina 
tions  have  taken  towards  study.  The  taste  for  it  being  once 
acquired,  it  will  not  easily  be  lost ;  but,  by  God's  blessing, 
will  preserve  you  from  many  temptations  to  which  you 
would  otherwise  be  exposed,  and  provide  you  with  a  source 
of  the  purest  pleasure  in  your  leisure  moments,  if  you 
should  not  be  a  professional  man.  And  it  is  not  necessary, 
as  some  imagine,  my  dear  brother,  to  study  one  of  the  pro 
fessions  because  you  have  been  through  the  preparatory 
courses  of  college  studies.  They  will  adorn  the  life  of  a 
merchant  or  an  agriculturist,  and  be  to  you  only  an  addi 
tional  incentive  to  any  honorable  pursuit. 

"  I  wish  you  to  be  thoroughly  grounded  in  your  Latin  and 
Greek  grammars.  With  a  perfect  knowledge  of  your  rules, 
every  thing  afterwards  in  parsing  and  construing  will  be 
easy.  But  a  deficiency  in  this  knowledge  is  very  seldom 
supplied  in  advancing  years.  The  preterites  in  Latin,  and 
the  anomalous  verbs  in  Greek,  are  of  gre£l  importance  to  a 
19 


218  CORRESPONDENCE. 

correct  scholar.  No  man  can  presume  to  pass  in  England 
for  a  liberally  educated  man,  who  is  deficient  in  quantity,  or 
who  is  not  master  of  prosody,  and  therefore  makes  mistakes 
in  pronunciation.  The  knowledge  of  geography,  history, 
logic,  arid  rhetoric  may  be  very  much  supplied  in  mature 
years ;  but  of  the  languages  it  cannot,  because  the  memory 
then  does  not  easily  retain  rules. 

"  Be  a  good,  regular,  studious  boy,  and  God  will  bless  you. 
If  you  are  not  a  learned  man,  you  may  be  what  is  much 
better,  a  pious  and  useful  one.  But  I  sincerely  hope,  that, 
as  your  mind  enlarges,  you  will  be  more  and  more  attached 
to  your  books.  It  will  give  me  the  truest  pleasure  to  hear 
that  you  are  growing  in  every  thing  good  and  honorable,  and 
that  one  of  these  days  you  will  feel  an  inclination  to  come 
and  study  with  your  brother,  Joseph." 

"  MY  DEAR  SISTERS,  —  I  thank  you  for  the  articles  for 
my  wardrobe.  I  could  not  but  think,  as  I  looked  at  the 
immense  number  of  stitches  that  you  have  set  for  your 
brother,  of  the  precious  moments  that  might  have  been  bet 
ter  employed.  I  send  you  a  book,*  that  will,  I  am  sure, 
agreeably  amuse  those  moments  that  you  can  spare  for 
reading. 

"  The  reason  of  my  not  writing  before  has  not  been  ill 
ness  ;  neither  ought  I  to  say  it  has  been  too  many  avoca 
tions,  for  a  man  can  always  find  time  to  pen  a  few  lines, 
though  the  press  of  business  may  make  him  forget  that  he 
ought  to  write,  and  this  has  been  my  case.  I  am  glad  you 
have  returned  to  the  pleasures  of  home,  and  I  doubt  not 
you  have  found  them  only  enhanced  by  the  variety  you 

have  seen  abroad.  As  to 's  French,  I  doubt  whether 

she  will  have  resolution  enough  to  master  the  first  difficulties 
without  assistance.  If  she  has  a  little  easy  introductory 
book,  of  which,  by  the  help  of  a  dictionary,  she  can  learn 

*  Knox's  Elegant  Extracts  from  the  British  Poets. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  219 

the  sense,  it  will  be  more  attractive  to  her  than  to  begin 
with  the  grammar.     If  not,  I  will  send  her  one. 

"  Thank  papa  for  the  book  he  sent  me,  and  not  the  less 
because  I  already  possess  it,  and  have  read  it.  '  The  Force 
of  Truth,'  or,  at  least,  the  force  of  conscience,  ought  to 
strike  a  person  very  powerfully,  who,  with  a  Socinian  creed, 
has  dared  to  subscribe,  or  to  hold  a  living,  in  a  church  whose 
articles  are  unquestionably  Trinitarian,  as  was  the  case  with 
Mr.  Scott. 

This  letter  is  as  rambling  as  a  young  lady's  at  a  boarding- 
school.  I  will  bid  you  good  night,  my  dear  sisters.  Peace 
ful  slumbers,  undisturbed  by  any  gay  recollections,  be  your 
night's  blessing.  You  have  left  a  good  name  here  ;  remem 
ber,  it  can  be  preserved  only  by  real  virtues,  —  benevolence 
of  disposition,  a  cultivated  mind,  and,  as  the  security  of  all 
excellence,  an  inwrought  sentiment  of  piety  and  moral  ob 
ligation.  This  is  permanent ;  good  feeling  is  momentary. 
Read  Miss  Hamilton  on  Religious  Principle.  E.,  and  F. 
also,  pray  read  It.  I~do  not  mean  to  preach,  however. 

"  Your  brother,  J.  S.  B." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

ORDINATION    OF    A    CLASSMATE.  MONTHLY    ANTHOLOGY.  

ANTHOLOGY    CLUB. JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. —  LETTERS. 

IN  January,  1806,  Rev.  Charles  Lowell  was  settled 
at  the  West  Church  in  Boston.  He  and  Buckminster 
had  been  college  classmates  and  intimate  friends,  and 
the  latter  was  chosen  to  deliver  the  right  hand  of  fellow 
ship.  An  unusual  truth  and  tenderness  was  infused  into 
the  fraternal  address  made  to  the  candidate  hy  his  friend, 
in  a  service  which  always  owes  a  portion  of  its  effect  to 
natural  feeling. 

"  If,"  he  says,  "  in  offering  you  the  fellowship  of  the 
churches,  I  should  suffer  myself  to  dwell  with  too  much 
fondness  on  expressions  of  personal  good- will,  you,  I  know, 
would  forgive  me,  but  I  should  hardly  have  performed  the 
duty  assigned  me  by  this  honorable  council. 

"  We,  and  all  our  churches,  are  by  this  act  united,  not  in 
the  bonds  of  an  ecclesiastical  league,  not  under  the  dominion 
of  infallible  superiors,  not  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening 
the  secular  influence  of  our  religious  societies,  nor  in  the 
spirit  of  any  selfish  and  mercenary  connection,  but  in  those 
equal  and  spiritual  ties  which  God  has  hitherto  blessed  and 
hallowed  to  the  peace  of  the  New  England  churches.  For 
we  are  all  united  in  the  same  faith  and  profession,  in  the 
same  duties  and  hopes,  in  the  same  ordinances  and  liberties, 
and,  as  we  trust,  in  the  same  spirit  also,  under  one  Lord, 


ORDINATION    OF    A    CLASSMATE.  221 

even  Jesus,  and  'one  God 'and  Father  of  all,  who  is  above 
all,,  and  through  all,  and  in  all.'  " 

This  address  was  pronounced  just  as  divisions  were 
beginning  in  the  churches  of  the  Boston  Association,  and 
one  of  the  publications  of  the  day,  speaking  of  it,  said  : 
"  Notwithstanding  the  sanctity  of  the  occasion,  the  fol 
lowing  simile  was  received  by  the  audience  with  a  mur 
mur  of  approbation." 

u  Is  there  not,  amid  all  the  varieties  of  opinion  and  faith, 
enough  left  us  in  common  to  preserve  a  unity  of  spirit  ? 
What  though  the  globes  that  compose  our  planetary  system 
are  at  some  times  nearer  than  at  others,  both  to  one  another 
and  the  sun ;  now.  crossing  each  other's  path,  now  eclipsing 
each  other's  light,  and  even  sometimes  appearing  to  our 
short-sighted  vision  to  have  wandered  irrecoverably,  and  to 
have  gone  off  into  boundless  space ;  yet  do  we  not  know 
that  they  are  still  reached  by  the  genial  beams  of  the  cen 
tral  light,  and  continue  in  their  widest  aberrations  to  gravi 
tate  to  the  same  point  in  the  system  ?  And  may  we  not  be 
lieve  that  the  Great  Head  of  the  Church  has  always  dis 
pensed  through  the  numerous  societies  of  Christendom  a 
portion  of  the  healing  influences  of  his  religion :  has  held 
his  churches  invisibly  together  when  they  have  appeared  to 
be  rushing  farthest  asunder  ?  and  through  all  the  order  and 
confusion,  conjunction  and  apposition,  progress  and  decline 
of  churches,  has  kept  alive  in  every  communion  a  supreme 
regard  to  his  authority,  a  portion  of  the  spirit  of  their 
Master,  as  a  common  principle  of  relation  to  him  and  to  one 
another  ?  " 

He  closes  with  these  words  :  — 

"  If  I  might  be  permitted  now  to  express  a  wish  for  you 
and  for   myself,    it  would    be   this  :    that,   as  our    gracious 
19* 


222  THE  MONTHLY  ANTHOLOGY. 

Master,  when  he  was  on  earth,  sent  forth  his  seventy  evan 
gelists  by  two  and  two,  to  preach  the  Gospel  in  Judea, 
he  would  also  send  us  forth  together  by  his  authority,  would 
permit  us  to  travel  in  company  through  the  journey  of  a  use 
ful  ministry,  and  would  enable  us  to  return  to  his  presence 
together  at  last,  rejoicing  to  find  that  our  names  have  been 
written,  with  the  names  of  our  people,  in  the  book  of  life.1' 

It  was  in  this  year  that  my  brother  began  to  contribute 
to  the  pages  of  the  Anthology,  a  monthly  review,  which 
had  succeeded  the  Literary  JMiscellany,  a  short-lived 
periodical,  commenced  the  previous  year  in  Cambridge. 
The  Anthology  was  supported  by  a  society  of  gentlemen 
in  Boston  and  Cambridge,  consisting  of  the  youngest 
of  the  clergy  and  many  distinguished  laymen.  It  was 
planned  in  a  wholly  private  manner,  and  the  business 
was  afterwards  conducted  at  weekly  evening  meetings, 
held  in  the  beginning  in  succession,  at  the  houses  of  the 
members.  This  meeting  took  the  name  of  the  Antholo 
gy  Club.  A  light  supper  was  allowed,  but  it  was  never 
a  convivial  club.  Perhaps  it  was  one  of  the  most  agree 
able  literary  societies  that  ever  existed  in  Boston,  and 
among  its  members' were  some  of  the  most  honored 
names  in  every  profession.  It  will  show  the  almost  vil 
lage  character  of  Boston  society  forty  years  ago,  and  the 
early  hours  of  fashionable  parties,  to  mention  that  ladies 
would  not  invite  company  on  Anthology  evening,  be 
cause  the  meeting  of  the  club  robbed  them  of  the  pres 
ence  of  the  most  agreeable  gentlemen. 

The  introductory  address  of  the  sixth  volume  of  the 
Anthology,  written  by  Mr.  Buckminster,  thus  explains 
the  purpose  of  the  publication,  and  apologizes  for  its  de 
ficiencies  :  — 


THE  MONTHLY  ANTHOLOGY.  223 

"  The  faults  of  our  work,  of  which  no  one  can  be  more 
sensible  than  its  editors,  result  from  causes  which  we  can 
only  hope  to  counteract,  but  not  entirely  to  remove.  The 
Anthology  has  hitherto  been  supported  by  the  unpaid  and 
unregulated  contributions  of  a  few  literary  men,  who  are 
well  pleased  when  the  public  profits  by  their  reading,  or 
shares  in  their  amusement.  They  have  yet  had  no  extraor 
dinary  stimulus  to  write  but  the  friendly  curiosity  and  occa 
sional  encomiums  of  men  like  themselves.  They  are  not 
enlisted  in  the  support  of  any  denomination,  nor  are  they 
inspired  with  the  fanaticism  of  literary  crusaders,  associated 
to  plant  their  standard  on  territory  recovered  from  heathens 
or  heretics.  They  are  satisfied  if  they  can  in  any  way  con 
tribute  to  the  mild  influence  of  our  common  Christianity, 
and  to  the  elegant  tranquillity  of  a  literary  lifo.  They  are 
gentle  knights,  who  wish  to  guard  the  seats  of  taste  and 
morals  at  home  from  the  incursions  of  the  '  Paynim  hosts,' 
happy  if  they  should  now  and  then  rescue  a  fair  captive 
from  the  giants  of  romance,  or  dissolve  the  spell  by  which 
many  a  youthful  genius  is  held  by  the  enchantment  of  a 
corrupt  literature.  If,  with  these  objects,  they  can  retain  the 
pleasures  of  lettered  society,  — 

'  Mundoeque  parvo  sub  lare  pauperum 
Coenae,  sine  aulacis  et  ostro, 
Sollicitam  explicare  frontem,'  — 

they  will  try  to  be  as  insensible  to  the  neglect  and  con 
tumely  of  the  great  vulgar  and  the  small,  as  they  are  to  the 
pelting  of  the  pitiless  storm  without,  when  taste  and  good 
humor  sit  around  the  fire  within." 

When  it  is  recollected  that  all  of  the  contributors  to 
the  Anthology  were  men  engaged  in  laborious  and  ex 
acting  professions  ;  that  their  contributions  were  the 
fruits  of  chance  half-hours,  or  of  moments  lighted  by  the 


224  THE    ANTHOLOGY    CLUB. 

midnight  lamp,  after  days  of  fatiguing  labor  in  their  of 
fices  ;  "  that  they  did  not  pass  under  the  rigorous  review 
of  any  single  editor  "  ;  that  each  was  his  own  censor, 
proof-reader,  and  critic  ;  —  there  is  certainly  a  wonderful 
degree  of  unity  of  purpose  and  harmony  of  sentiment, 
and  a  general  respectability,  in  its  pages,  highly  credit 
able  to  the  dawning  literature  of  the  day.  Any  one 
reading  it  now  will  be  startled  at  the  independent  tone  of 
its  criticism. 

Among  its  regular  contributors  were  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Emerson,  and  Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  J.  Gardiner,  who  wrote 
upon  classical  themes  and  supplied  many  literary  anec 
dotes.  Professor  Willard  of  Cambridge,  whose  articles 
were  learned  criticisms  or  reviews,  Mr.  William  Wells, 
Mr.  Frank  C banning,  Mr.  William  Tudor,  were  all  occa 
sional  contributors.  A.  M.  Walter,  Esq.,  who  seems  to 
have  been  the  darling  of  a  numerous  circle  of  friends, 
was  one  of  its  most  responsible  supporters.  Then  there 
were  many  very  pleasant  persons  who  belonged  to  the 
club,  who  did  not  contribute  to  the  pages  of  its  periodi 
cal,  —  drones  in  the  hive,  that  were  too  agreeable  to  be 
turned  out.  Mr.  John  Lowell  enriched  its  pages  with 
his  graphic  "  Letters  from  Europe,"  in  a  series  through 
two  or  three  years.  The  papers  under  the  signature  of 
R.  were  valuable  and  rich,  —  supposed  to  have  been  writ 
ten  by  Mr.  Rockwell  of  Boston.  There  were  many  fugi 
tive  papers  sent  from  regions  far  from  Boston.  Daniel 
Webster,  from  the  rocky  wilds  of  New  Hampshire, 
enriched  its  pages  with  his  winged  thoughts  ;  and  some 
eloquent  papers  upon  Greek  literature  came  from  Maine, 
which  proved,  as  was  remarked  at  the  time,  that  their 
author  dwelt  nearer  to  Athens  than  the  editors  them- 


THE    ANTHOLOGY    CLUB.  225 

selves.*  Samuel  Dexter  wrote  occasionally  for  its 
pages,  and  a  tardy  Remarker,  full  of  calm  and  trans 
parent  thought,  proved  that  Dr.  Kirkland  could  some 
times,  amid  serious  cares,  finish  a  lighter  production. 

Perhaps,  of  some  of  these  gentlemen,  it  may  be  said 
that  they  have  left  no  productions  of  the  pen  by  which 
they  are  remembered ;  their  contributions  to  the  An 
thology  lie  forgotten  in  its  pages.  But  is  it  rational  or 
fair  to  complain  that  wine  has  not  been  stored  in  the 
cask,  and  preserved  for  future  years,  from  the  vines 
whose  clusters  have  been  gathered  from  day  to  day,  as 
soon  as  they  were  ripe,  to  refresh  the  thirsty  lip,  to 
soothe  the  sick,  and  to  serve  for  the  dessert  at  the  table 
of  every  passing  day  ?  There  was  at  that  time  no  class 
of  literary  men,  and  had  there  been,  there  was  little 
encouragement  given  to  literature.  Low  as  was  the  price 
of  the  Anthology,  it  had  far  more  readers  than  sub 
scribers  ;  and  though  the  contributions  were  all  gratui 
tous,  it  scarcely  paid  the  expense  of  printing. 

Mr.  Buckminsler's  anonymous  contributions  to  the  An 
thology  were  very  numerous.  It  is  impossible  at  this  time 
to  know  how  numerous.  Rough  sketches  are  found  among 
his  papers  of  many  articles  which  were  anonymous  at  the 
time,  and  the  author  unsuspected.  The  first  thing  that 
was  known  to  be  his,  was  a  letter,  written  while  he  was  in 
England,  containing  an  account  of  his  visit  to  Johnson's 
birthplace  at  Lichfield.  As  Johnson  is  as  interesting 
at  this  day  as  at  the  time  when  it  was  \vritten,  and  as 
it  is  a  fair  specimen  of  his  epistolary  style,  the  letter 
is  inserted  here. 

"  Birmingham,  June  19,  1806. 
"  My  DEAR  FRIEND,  - —  Yesterday  I  travelled  the  whole 

*  Charles  Davis,  Esq.,  of  Portland. 


226  DESCRIPTION    OF    THE 

distance  from  Buxton  to  Birmingham  (sixty-one  miles)  in 
a  post-chaise,  with  a  young  American,  born  near  Ports 
mouth  ;  and  we  shall  probably  keep  company  till  we  reach 
the  metropolis,  the  urbs  sacra,  the  city  of  the  gods.  This 
charming  country  is  worth  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  to 
behold.  Ceres  and  Flora  must  have  laid  their  heads  to 
gether,  I  think,  to  lay  it  out,  and  I  have  found  that  Thom 
son's  Summer  is  a  perpetual  commentary  upon  the  road  I 
have  been  travelling. 

"  Yesterday,  about  5  o'clock,  P.  M.,  I  passed  through  Lich- 
field.  I  purposely  delayed  dining  till  this  late  hour,  that 
I  might  spend  a  longer  time  on  this  classic  ground.  As 
soon  as  I  alighted  at  the  hotel,  I  inquired  for  the  house 
where  Dr.  Johnson  was  born.  I  was  immediately  shown 
to  one  about  two  hundred  rods  off,  and  I  am  sure  I  should 
not  have  walked  with  a  quicker  step,  or  with  more  expecta 
tion,  to  see  the  amphitheatre  of  Vespasian. 

"  The  house  where  Johnson  was  born  stands  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  town  of  Lichfield,  at  the  corner  of  a  square,  with 
in  a  few  paces  of  the  market  and  the  Church  of  St.  Mary's, 
I  think.  It  is  now  an  old  three-story  building,  rather  showy 
without,  and  rather  shabby  within.  The  first  apartment  on 
the  lower  floor,  which  was  the  bookstore  of  Johnson's  father, 
is  now  a  tinker's  shop,  filled  with  copper  tea-kettles,  tin 
pans,  candlesticks,  &c. ;  while  a  small  room  adjoining  is  oc 
cupied  by  a  maker  of  electrical  machines.  In  the  chamber 
over  this  shop,  once  divided  into  two,  that  mighty  spirit, 
destined  to  illuminate  the  generation  which  received  him, 
and  to  exalt  our  estimate  of  human  capacity,  was  ushered 
into  this  world.  This  chamber  is  now,  as  I  imagine,  the 
tinker's  drawing-room  !  There  remains  a  small  fire-place 
in  one  corner,  and  the  walls  are  hung  round  with  paltry 
pictures, — 

'  The  seasons  framed  with  listing  find  a  place, 
And  brave  Prince  William  shows  his  lampblack  face.' 


BIRTHPLACE    OF    DR.    JOHNSON.  227 

The  floors  are  much  worn,  dirty,  and  uneven,  and  every 
thing  within  the  house  bears  the  appearance  of  poverty  and 
decay.  The  tinman,  named  Evans,  was  not  at  home  ;  but 
his  wife,  a  chatty  old  woman,  told  us,  in  answer  to  our 
queries,  that  the  present  rent  which  they  paid  was  eighteen 
guineas,  and  that  the  taxes  were  as  much  more.  This,  to 
be  sure,  is  quite  as  much  as  such  a  house  would  be  worth  in 
Boston,  and  nothing  but  its  central  situation  can  render  it  so 
high.  The  old  lady  then  called  her  little  grand-daughter,  to 
conduct  us  to  what  is  called  the  Parchment  house,  to  which 
Johnson's  father  afterwards  removed,  and  to  show  us  the 
willow-tree,  of  which  there  is  a  tradition  that  it  was  planted 
by  Johnson  or  his  father,  but  nobody  knows  which.  However 
this  may  be,  it  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  trees  in  all 
England.  It  is  certainly  twice  as  large  as  any  willow  I 
ever  saw  in  America,  and  it  is  allowed  to  surpass  every 
other  in  this  country.  The  tinker's  wife  told  us  that  her 
house  was  frequently  visited  by  travellers,  and  I  dare  to  say 
that  the  gratuities  which  she  receives  for  her  civilities  in 
showing  it  amount  at  least  to  the  rent  of  the  house.  Here 
is  a  subject  for  meditation.  A  tinman  is  now  able  to  secure 
a  comfortable  habitation  by  showing  the  chamber  where 

Johnson  was  born that  Johnson,  who  has  wandered 

many  a  night  through  the  streets  of  London,  because  he 
was  unable  to  pay  for  a  lodging ! 

"  As  we  were  returning  to  our  inn,  we  espied  a  curious 
figure  of  an  old  man,  with  laced  round  hat,  scarlet  coat, 
with  tarnished  trimmings  of  the  last  age,  and  a  bell  under 
his  arm.  Upon  accosting  him,  we  found  that  he  had  been 
town-crier  for  many  years,  and  a  kind  of  Caleb  Quotem ; 
that  he  always  shaved  Dr.  Johnson  when  he  came  to  visit 
Lichfield ;  that  his  name  was  Jenney,  seventy-four  years 
old,  with  strength  and  spirits  unimpaired. 

"  The  cathedral  at  Lichfield  is  worthy  the  attention  of 
every  traveller.  Who  shall  say  that  the  daily  view  of  this 


228  LETTER    ON    DR.    JOHNSON. 

ancient,  dark,  and  reverend  pile,  once  the  residence  of 
monks,  may  not  have  contributed  to  impress  on  the  mind 
of  young  Johnson  a  superstitious  veneration  for  the  splen 
dor  of  a  church  establishment,  and  have  even  given  him 
that  melancholy  bias,  which  he  discovered  toward  many 
of  the  ceremonies  and  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 
Indeed,  I  know  of  nothjng  so  calculated  to  inspire  a  secret 
suspicion  of  the  presence  of  the  departed,  as  to  walk  through 
the  long,  still,  and  echoing  aisles  of  a  Gothic  cathedral, 
lined  on  each  side  with  the  tombs,  and  ornamented  with 
the  figures,  of  men  who  died  centuries  ago ;  for  while  you 
are  trembling  at  the  sound  of  your  own  steps  in  these  lofty 
and  silent  cloisters,  and  seem  to  shrink  into  littleness  under 
the  venerable  grandeur  of  the  roofs,  you  can  hardly  bring 
yourself  to  believe  that  such  a  vast  and  solemn  structure 
is  uninhabited  ;  and  after  having  heard  the  great  gate  close 
upon  your  coming  out,  you  cannot  avoid  the  impression, 
that  you  are  leaving  these  awful  retreats  to  some  invisible 
and  ghostly  tenants. 

"  Dr.  Johnson,  and  David  Garrick,  and  Gilbert  Walms- 
ley,  have  monuments  in  this  cathedral  very  near  to  one 
another.  You  remember  the  Latin  epitaph  which  Johnson 
wrote  for  his  father's  tombstone,  who  was  buried  here  ;  I 
know  you  will  hardly  forgive  the  dean  and  chapter,  when  I 
tell  you,  that,  in  paving  the  church,  they  have  lately  re 
moved  it,  as  well  as  another,  which  Dr.  J.  caused  to  be 
placed  over  the  grave  of  a  young  woman,  who  was  vio 
lently  in  love  with  his  father.  The  inscription  which  Dr.  J. 
wrote  was  nothing  more  than  this,  —  'Here  lies—  —a 
stranger,  ob.  &c.'  This  anecdote  I  had  from  the  verger,  a 
tattling  old  man,  who  showed  us  the  cathedral.  He  professed 
to  have  been  '  very  intimate '  (these  were  his  words)  with 
Dr.  J.  His  name  is  Furneaux." 

Besides  the  description  of  the  destruction  of  Goldau, 


LITERARY    CONTROVERSY.  229 

sent  from  Europe,  there  is  a  letter  from  Paris,  contain 
ing  "A  sketch  of  the  present  state  of  literature  and 
theology  in  Paris." 

There  is  in  the  pages  of  the  Anthology  a  curious 
controversy  between  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  J.  Gardiner  and 
Buckrninster,  upon  the  merits  of  Gray  as  a  poet.  This 
controversy  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  discussions 
between  the  romantic  and  classical  schools  in  litera 
ture.  Dr.  Gardiner  maintains  with  dry  reasoning  that 
Pope's  is  the  only  true  model  for  real  poetry.  And 
Buckminster  supports,  in  the  following  passage,  the  opin 
ion  that  the  most  thrilling  touches  of  sublimity  and  beau 
ty  are  consistent  with  great  indistinctness  of  images  and 
conceptions. 

"  It  is  hardly  to  be  believed,  before  making  the  experi 
ment,  that  we  should  be  so  much  affected  as  we  are  by 
passages  which  convey  no  definite  picture  to  the  mind. 
We  must  acknowledge  that  there  is  a  higher  spe 
cies  of  poetry  than  the  mere  language  of  reason.  Spenser, 
Milton,  and  even  Dryden,  knew  this,  and  they  studied  suc 
cessfully  the  Italian  poets ;  but  after  the  time  of  Dryden, 
our  English  poetry  began  to  be  formed  too  exclusively  upon 
that  of  the  French.  The  authority  of  Pope  has  been  emi 
nently  useful,  but  the  world  is  not  yet  persuaded  that  to  be 
a  poet  it  is  indispensable  to  write  like  Pope 

"  For  my  own  part,  I  take  as  much  delight  in  contemplat 
ing  the  rich  hues  that  succeed  one  another  without  order  in 
a  deep  cloud  in  the  west,  which  has  no  prescribed  shape, 
as  in  viewing  the  seven  colors  of  the  rainbow,  disposed  in 
a  form  exactly  semicircular.  After  having  read  any  poem 
once,  we  recur  to  it  afterwards,  not  as  a  whole,  but  for  the 
beauty  of  particular  passages 

"  The  distinguishing  excellence  of  Gray's  poetry  is,  I 
20 


LITERARY    CONTROVERSY. 

think,  to  be  found  in  the  astonishing  force  and  beauty  of  his 
epithets.  In  other  poets,  if  you  are  endeavouring  to  recol 
lect  a  passage,  and  find  that  a  single  word  still  eludes  you, 
it  is  not  impossible  to  supply  it  occasionally  with  something 
equivalent  or  superior.  But  let  any  one  attempt  this  with 
Gray's  poetry,  and  he  will  find  that  he  does  not  even  ap 
proach  the  beauty  of  the  original.  Like  the  single  window 
in  Aladdin's  palace,  which  the  Grand  Vizier  undertook  to 
finish  with  diamonds  equal  to  the  rest,  but  found,  after  a 
long  trial,  that  he  was  not  rich  enough  to  furnish  the  jewels, 
nor  ingenious  enough  to  dispose  them  ;  so  there  are  lines 
in  Gray,  which  critics  and  poets  might  labor  for  ever  to  sup 
ply,  and  without  success.  This  wonderful  richness  of  ex 
pression  has  perhaps  injured  his  fame.  For  sometimes  a 
single  word,  by  giving  rise  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  to  a 
succession  of  images,  so  preoccupies  it  as  to  obscure  the 
lustre  of  the  succeeding  epithets.  The  mind  is  fatigued 
and  retarded  by  the  crowd  of  beauties,  soliciting  the  atten 
tion  at  the  same  moment  to  different  graces  of  thought  and 
expression." 

Dr.  Gardiner,  in  his  reply,  again  maintains,  — 

"  That  he  knows  of  no  sublime  passage  in  Homer,  Vir 
gil,  or  Milton,  but  what  is  perfectly  intelligible ;  and  scarce 
ly  a  description  which  would  not  make  a  good  picture.  In 
deed,  I  lay  it  down  as  a  general  maxim,  that  whatever  im 
agery  a  good  painter  cannot  execute  on  the  canvas  must 
necessarily  be  incorrect.  If  there  be  any  exception  to  this 
rule,  it  can  only  be  where  images  are  presented  to  the 
mind  which  are  not  subjects  of  the  eye,  as  the  rattling  of 
the  quiver  on  the  shoulders  of  Apollo  on  his  march  to  avenge 
his  insulted  priest. 

"  In  his  '  Ode  for  Music,'  (an  odd  title,  by  the  way,) 
Gray  has  these  lines  :  — 


LITERARY    CONTROVERSY.  231 

'  And  thus  they  speak  in  soft  accord 
The  liquid  language  of  the  skies.' 

"  Now  I  should  be  happy  if  you  would  inform  me  in 
what  consists  '  the  astonishing  force  and  beauty  of  this 
epithet.'  If  Gray  had  written  '  the  language  of  the  liquid 
skies,'  we  might  have  supposed  he  meant  thunder  in  rainy 
weather.  But  I  presume  the  beauty  of  this  epithet  arises 
from  that  inimitable  obscurity  which  is  the  great  source  of 
Gray's  sublimity 

"  The  ode  on  Summer,  published  in  the  last  Sylva,  is  supe 
rior  to  Gray's  on  the  Spring,  and,  without  borrowing  a  single 
thought  or  expression  from  him,  exhibits  all  his  peculiari 
ties  :  his  quaintness  of  epithets,  his  affected  alliterations, 
and  the  general  glitter  and  tinsel  of  his  style." 

Dr.  Gardiner  closes  thus  :  —  "  Sincerely  wishing  that 
you  will  in  future  employ  your  acknowledged  talents 
as  a  writer  more  usefully  than  in  the  defence  of  ab 
surdity." 

Buckminster  answers  with  a  further  vindication  of 
Gray,  and  closes  thus  :  —  u  I  beg  leave  to  reciprocate 
your  benevolent  wish,  with  a  little  variation  ;  that,  in 
stead  of  employing  your  c  acknowledged  talents  '  as  a 
poet  in  burlesque  imitations  of  Gray,  you  would  have 
the  goodness  to  give  us  an  ode  equal  to  the  '  Bard.'  " 

It  would  perhaps  be  hardly  worth  while  to  call  the 
history  of  this  gentle  controversy  from  the  oblivion  of 
the  pages  of  the  Anthology,  were  it  not  to  introduce 
an  anecdote  recollected  and  imparted  by  the  Hon. 
James  Savage,  a  member  of  the  club.  "  Contro 
versy,"  he  says,  "  sprang  up  in  the  club  on  the  literary 
nature  of  Gray's  odes,  and  the  war  began  with  a  bur 
lesque  ode  to  Winter,  by  our  president,  Rev.  J.  S.  J. 
Gardiner,  who  followed  it  up  with  one  on  Summer, 


232  RETROSPECTIVE    REVIEW 

also  in  the  Anthology.  In  the  same  No.,  Buckmin- 
ster  gave  a  forcible  defence  of  the  imagery  and  epi 
thets  of  the  poet,  which,  the  next  month,  was  replied  to 
by  the  assailant,  and,  in  the  following  No.,  was  strength 
ened  by  the  other  side  ;  and  this  also  was  counter 
worked  by  another  parody  of  the  lyric  inspiration,  in 
which  Gray's  great  odes  were  caricatured.  A  fourth 
attempt  at  the  ludicrous,  by  our  president,  contained 
something  unguardedly  personal  from  the  satirist  to  his 
antagonist,  which  produced  strong  though  silent  emo 
tions  of  sympathy  in  many  of  the  party.  In  an  instant, 
the  writer  threw  the  inconsiderate  effusion  into  the  fire. 
This,"  says  Mr.  Savage,  "  as  a  striking  instance  of  the 
powerful  influence  of  the  gentleness  of  Mr.  Buckmin- 
ster,  and  of  the  profound  regard  felt  for  him  by  a  critic 
of  opposite  sentiments  in  a  protracted  controversy,  has 
dwelt  forty  years  in  my  memory  ;  yet  the  kindly  natured 
polemics  had,  I  dare  say,  in  half  as  many  weeks,  utterly 
forgotten  it.  From  that  moment,  no  allusion  was  made 
in  the  club  to  Gray's  merits." 

Another  object,  the  design  of  which  originated  in  the 
club,  and  was  most  earnestly  urged  by  my  brother, 
was  to  rescue  from  oblivion,  and  review  in  the  Anthology, 
the  American  books  that  had  been  printed  since  the 
settlement  of  the  country.  In  the  introduction  to  this 
department  of  the  Anthology,  called  "  Retrospective 
Notices  of  American  Literature,"  written  by  himself, 
he  says  :  — 

"  We  propose  to  commence  a  review  of  books  in  Ameri 
can  literature,  which  have  either  been  forgotten,  or  have 
not  hitherto  received  the  attention  which  they  deserve.  In- 


OF    AMERICAN    BOOKS.  233 

terested  as  we  are  in  every  thing  that  relates  to  the  honor  of 
our  country,  we  are  not  ashamed  to  express  our  conviction 
that  one  reason  of  the  low  estimate  in  which  our  literature 
is  held  among  ourselves,  as  well  as  in  Europe,  is,  that  there 
has  been  no  regular  survey  of  this  field  of  letters.  It  is 
supposed  to  be  utterly  barren,  because  it  is  so  wide  and 
desolate,  and  because  there  has  never  been  a  map  of  the 
region.  But  as  in  the  highest  parts  of  a  mountainous  coun 
try,  which  appear  at  a  distance  to  be  covered  with  eternal 
snows,  you  will  discover  in  crevices  and  little  spots  some 
humble  and  modest  plants,  which  sufficiently  reward  the 
toilsome  ascent  of  an  enthusiastic  botanist ;  so,  in  the  exten 
sive  if  not  copious  records  of  American  learning,  we  hope 
to  detect  a  few  rare  and  undescribed  specimens,  which 
may,  by  this  means,  awaken  at  least  the  regard  of  some 
future  historian  of  literature.  It  is  unfortunately  true,  that, 
while  every  country  in  modem  Europe  has  produced  copi 
ous  annals  of  its  literature,  or  maintained  regular  journals 
of  its  new  works,  this  country  has,  till  within  a  few  years, 
had  nothing  of  the  kind." 

After  saying  that  the  design  would  not  embrace  works 
in  theology,  he  remarks  :  — 

"  It  would  be  an  endless  task  to  review  even  the  works 
of  tolerable  merit  in  this  class,  which  have  issued  from  the 
presses  of  New  England  alone.  Here  we  are  proud  to 
mention  the  works  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  a  man  whose 
powers  of  mind  need  not  have  bowed  before  the  genius 
of  Locke  or  of  Hartley,  and  whose  theological  research, 
in  a  remote  part  of  an  unlettered  country,  would  have  been 
considered  honorable  to  any  divine,  surrounded  with  learned 
libraries,  and  aided  by  the  constant  intercourse  of  men  of 
erudition.  But  we  decline  to  enter  this  field  of  literary  his 
tory,  because  it  is  perhaps  not  only  the  best  known,  but 
20* 


234  EETROSPECTIVE    REVIEW. 

would  also  be  less  generally  interesting.  Neither  shall  we 
trespass  upon  the  ground  of  that  respectable  and  industri 
ous  society,  which  has  already  published  several  volumes  of 

historical  recollections 

.  "  Nothing  seems  at  present  to  be  in  the  way  of  our 
gradually  taking  rank  in  the  scale  of  literary  nations  but 
our  avarice  ;  and  the  extraordinary  opportunities  we  have 
had  of  making  money,  as  it  is  called,  are  at  least  some 

apology  for  our  immoderate  love  of  gain 

"  We  can  never  in  this  country  possess  many  of  the  luxu 
ries  of  the  fine  arts  which  older  countries  enjoy ;  but  we 
may  learn  to  love  the  more  refined  and  loftier  elegances  of 
literature  and  taste.  These  can  never  be  entirely  debased 
by  sensuality  ;  they  never  can  be  completely  pressed  into 
the  cause  of  corruption.  God  grant  that  our  expectations 
may  not  be  disappointed,  for  we  think  we  can  discern  the 
dawn  of  better  days.  l  Novus  sceculorum  nascitur  ordo."1 ' 

He  proceeded  to  redeem  the  engagement  by  the  re 
view  of  u  Logan's  Translation  of  Cato  Major,  a  quarto 
volume  printed  by  Dr.  Franklin  in  Philadelphia,  in 
1744."  It  was  the  first  and  the  best  translation  of  an 
ancient  classic  which  had  appeared  in  this  country.  The 
translator  was  Mr.  Logan  of  Philadelphia,  and  the  work 
of  translating  was  begun  in  his  sixtieth  year. 

The  review  of  Cato  Major  was  carried  through  three 
numbers  of  the  Anthology.  The  articles  that  were  fur 
nished  by  Mr.  Buckminster,  after  this,  were  generally  of 
a  theological  character,  ending  with  a  review  of  Gries- 
bach's  New  Testament  in  the  tenth  and  last  volume  of 
the  Anthology. 

An  historical  and  more  permanent  interest  attaches  to 
ihe  Anthology  Club  from  the  fact  that  the  first  idea  was 
started,  and  the  first  design  planned,  of  the  Boston  Athe- 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  BOSTON  ATHENJEUM.        235 

nseum,  in  one  of  these  evening  meetings.  To  William 
S.  Shaw,  who,  although  not  a  frequent  writer,  was  an 
active  member  of  the  club,  belongs  the  honor  of  first 
proposing  the  Athenaeum.  Upon  another  page  will  be 
found  some  curious  details  of  the  responsibility  assumed 
by  him,  and  the  informality  with  which  the  business  was 
at  first  conducted.* 

In  connection  with  the  Anthology,  and  to  show  Mr. 
Buckminster's  warm  interest  in  this  publication,  part  of  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Shaw,  written  from  England,  is  introduced 
in  this  place. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  entirely  pleased  with  some  of  the 
last  numbers  of  the  Anthology.  I  fear  that,  in  composing 
the  Si/lva,  too  much  attention  is  paid  to  showing  specimens 
of  fine  writing  and  sentimental  beauties,  rather  than  to  mak 
ing  it  curious  for  literary  memoranda.  I  feel,  too,  on  this 
side  of  the  water,  those  defects  which  are  almost  inherent 
in  the  work,  and  which  will  keep  it,  I  fear,  from  being  inter 
esting  in  Europe.  These  are,  first,  that  we  are  amazingly 
destitute  of  any  thing  like  scientific  information  and  curious 
research.  Secondly,  the  books  we  are  called  to  review  are 
very  trifling,  and  have  nothing  to  attract  readers  in  Europe. 
Besides,  I  think  we  waste  too  much  of  our  time  upon  fugi 
tive  pamphlets,  and  give  them  a  page,  when  many  of  them 
should  be  despatched  in  a  line.  Lastly,  we  have  too  many 
heavy  dissertations,  theme-like  communications,  which  no 
one  reads,  even  among  us,  but  the  writer ;  and  even  if  our 
criticisms  and  disquisitions  were  to  possess  as  much  taste  as 
we  sometimes  fancy  they  do,  yet  they  can  hardly  boast  of 
originality,  —  the  only  thing  which  will  attract  readers  here. 
They  will  not  look,  here,  into  an  American  publication,  which 

*  See  the  correspondence  of  Shaw  and  Buckminster,  Chapter 
XVIII. 


236  THE    ANTHOLOGY. 

gives  them  nothing  but  the  drippings  of  their  own.  These 
circumstances  do  not  in  the  least  diminish  my  zeal  for  sup 
porting  our  Anthology  with  all  our  might,  but  they  induce 
me  to  despair  of  seeing  it  awaken  the  attention  and  circu 
late  among  the  readers  of  Europe.  However,  nil  desperan- 
dum ; — I  was  going  to  add  the  rest  of  the  quotation,  but 
alas !  our  dear  Walter  is  dead,  —  the  life  and  animating  soul 

of  the  club  ! 

"  Give  my  love  to  all  the  Anthologists,  even  the  new 
ones.  I  am  delighted  with  Kirkland's  address  of  the  editors, 
in  the  new  volume.  Be  careful,  I  beseech  you,  about  ad 
mitting  new  members.  I  am  very  much  afraid,  that,  dur 
ing  my  absence,  you  will  metamorphose  it  from  a  club  of 
friends  into  a  club  of  editors.  But  not  a  word  of  this.  En 
passant,^  I  am  sorry  to  see  the  articles  of  literary  intelli 
gence  so  scanty.  Has  the  former  collector  relaxed  his  in 
dustry,  or  given  up  the  task  ?  or,  rather,  has  the  death  of 
our  dear  Walter  paralyzed,  for  the  moment,  his  activity  ? 
Once  more ;  I  am  mortified,  whenever  I  think  that  no  re 
view  of  Marshall's  Life  of  Washington  has  yet  appeared 
in  the  Anthology.  Would  it  not  be  well  for  the  editors  to 
make  a  polite  request  to  Dr.  Holmes,  who  deserves  the  hon 
orable  name  of  the  American  annalist,  that  he  would  under 
take  to  give  us  a  careful  and  adequate  review  of  this  great 
national  work  ?  I  know  of  no  man  better  qualified.  It  is 
time  to  wipe  away  several  disgraceful  omissions  of  this  sort. 
Webster's  Dictionary  has  never  been  reviewed.  Lathrop's 
Sermons  !  —  pray,  what  are  our  theological  auxiliaries  about  ? 
I  see  no  traces  of  their  hands." 

To  the  above  inadequate  account  of  the  Anthology  is 
only  added,  that  many  of  the  Sylvas  of  that  publication, 
which  were  always  anonymous,  were  furnished  by  my 
brother,  particularly  after  his  return  from  Europe,  con 
sisting  of  literary  information,  collected  there,  which 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  237 

was  too  trifling  or  insufficient  to  weave  into  a  graver 
article. 

It  may  seem  astonishing  to  some  minds,  that,  occu 
pied  as  he  was  with  the  parochial  duties  of  a  large  so 
ciety,  he  could  find  time  and  inclination  to  devote  to  a 
publication  like  the  Anthology.  But,  as  has  been  ob 
served  in  another  page  of  this  memoir,  he  was  a  student, 
in  the  truest  meaning  of  the  word.  He  loved  study  for 
itself,  and  devoted  himself  cheerfully  to  the  self-denial 
which  a  life  of  study  demands  ;  and,  in  his  favorite  pur 
suits,  he  met  with  little  or  no  sympathy  from  others  to 
animate  his  solitary  labors  beneath  the  midnight  lamp. 
It  was,  therefore,  the  greatest  delight,  and  the  most 
agreeable  relaxation,  to  him,  to  meet  with  friends  and 
associates  in  those  lighter  pursuits  where  the  Muses  and 
the  Graces  mingled,  in  the  pages  of  the  Anthology. 

To  afford  some  idea  of  the  rapid  intellectual  survey 
by  which  he  compassed  his  studies,  the  journal  of  his 
reading  for  rather  more  than  a  year  is  given.  It  com 
prises  the  reading  of  the  year  preceding  his  ordination.* 

"  I  am  induced,  by  the  example  of  Gibbon  and  others,  to 
commence  a  diary,  which  shall  contain  a  brief  record  of  the 
progress  of  my  studies,  and  of  the  distribution  of  my  time. 
I  begin  upon  a  day  which  finds  me  in  the  midst  of  the  pe 
rusal  of  more  than  four  books.  Let  the  confession  of  an 
error  upon  this  point  be  the  first  step  towards  amendment. 
My  morning's  occupation  is  the  perusal  of  Benson  on  the 
Epistles.  The  translation  of  DalzePs  Collectanea  Grseca 
occupies  my  spare  moments. 

*  This  journal  of  studies  belongs  to  the  years  1804  -  5.  It  was  the 
first  intention  of  the  writer  to  introduce  it  in  an  appendix.  But  it  hav 
ing  been  thought  best  to  give  it  a  place  in  the  work,  it  was  too  late  to 
insert  it  in  the  preceding  chapter. 


238  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

"  December  18/A,  1803.  Began  the  first  volume  of  Bar 
row's  Works,  folio.  Read  his  Life,  by  Abraham  Hill.  Bar 
ren  of  interest,  and  written  with  great  affectation  of  humil 
ity.  Read  the  first  sermon  on  the  Pleasantness  of  Religion. 
He  is  very  fond  of  using  epithets.  There  is  scarcely  a  sub 
stantive  without  two  or  more  adjectives. 

"  December  22d.  Finished  Benson's  Essay  upon  the 
Abolition  of  the  Ceremonial  Law,  pp.  106.  His  obscu 
rity,  or  rather  his  perplexity,  upon  some  points,  arises  from 
the  paucity  of  his  materials.  He  divides  the  Jewish  law 
into  moral,  political,  and  ceremonial  ;  the  first  always  bind 
ing  on  all  Christians,  as  part  of  the  law  of  nature  and  of 
Christianity,  where  it  is  incorporated  and  improved.  The 
second  is  obligatory  upon  the  Jews,  during  the  existence  of 
their  civil  polity,  and  its  force  is  not  impaired  by  their  em 
bracing  Christianity.  This  makes  no  change  in  the  civil  re 
lations  of  men.  This  law  also  binds  the  proselytes  when 
inhabitants  of  the  Jewish  territory.  The  ceremonial  law 
is  not  binding  upon  Jews,  Gentiles,  or  Christians.  Paul's 
doctrine  upon  this  point  may  be  stated  in  the  'following 
method :  — 

"  1.  The  Gentile  Christians  he  openly  declared  unfettered 
by  it,  and  such  was  his  care  upon  this  point,  that  most  of  his 
epistles  are  filled  with  censures  on  the  conduct  of  the  Jews 
and  Judaizing  Christians  who  would  induce  the  converted 
Gentiles  to  submit  to  its  injunctions.  2.  The  devout  Gen 
tiles  who  had  been  converted  to  Christianity,  of  whom  Cor 
nelius  and  his  family  were  the  first  fruits,  were  exhorted, 
by  the  council  of  apostles  at  Jerusalem,  to  observe  the  in 
junctions  mentioned  in  the  decree,  Acts  xv.  To  this  they 
were  subject  by  the  Jewish  code.  3.  But  neither  these  nor 
the  Jews  were  really  bound  by  the  ceremonial  law  after  the 
death  of  Christ,  although  Paul  and  Barnabas,  to  whom  alone 
this  was  revealed,  were  cautious  of  publishing  its  abolition, 
in  order  to  avoid  shocking  the  prejudices  of  bigoted  Jews. 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  239 

"  Subject  for  a  sermon,  to  illustrate  the  character  of  Paul 
from  this  subject. 

"  Read  Gibbon's  Miscellaneous  Works,  2  vols.,  pp.  300. 
Wharton's  Life  of  Pope.  It  contains  little  more  information 
than  Johnson's,  and  is  written  with  great  slovenliness  of 
manner. 

"  December  23d.  Reviewed  Benson's  Essay.  Continued 
Gibbon.  In  reading,  his  method  was  to  follow  the  suit  of 
his  ideas,  rather  than  that  of  his  books.  This  demanded  an 
inexhaustible  library.  The  principal  source  of  his  erudition 
seems  to  have  been  the  Memoirs  of  the  'Academy  of  Belles 
Lettres,  a  book  not  to  be  procured  here.  One  reason  of 
our  having  so  few  learned  men  is,  the  want  of  books. 

"  December  27lh.  Read  Benson's  Two  Essays  upon 
the  Government  of  the  Primitive  Church  and  their  Public 
Worship.  The  following  are  some  of  his  conclusions:  — 
That  the  apostles,  at  their  first  planting  of  any  church,  did 
not  ordain  any  officers,  but  left  it  to  the  direction  of  some  of 
the  first  converts,  called  elders.  That  this  title,  so  often  men 
tioned  in  the  New  Testament,  signified  no  regular  officer. 
Their  regular  officers  were  usually  ordained  at  the  second 
visit  of  the  apostles.  The  expression  '  ordaining  elders  '  is 
interpreted  by  Benson  to  mean,  ordaining  elders  to  be  bish 
ops  and  deacons.  These,  after  they  were  ordained,  were 
sometimes  spoken  of  under  the  names  of  elders  and  priests, 
till  at  length  the  name  of  '  bishop '  was  appropriated  to  the 
presiding  bishop,  to  distinguish  him  from  the  other  bishops, 
who  were,  in  the  second  century,  presbyters  or  elders.  Ig 
natius  is  the  strongest  authority  on  the  episcopal  side ;  but 
he  does  not  intimate  that  his  bishop  was  a  diocesan  bishop, 
but  only  a  parochial  bishop. 

"  January  Is/,  1804.  Began  Belsham's  Elements  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind.  It  is  ridiculously  exact 
and  copious  on  the  subject  of  syllogisms.  In  every  other 
part  of  logic,  his  compendium  is  useful  and  his  definitions 


240  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

accurate.  Read,  same  day,  Barrow's  Sermons  on  the  Duty 
of  Prayer,  —  sixth  and  seventh  sermons,  pp.  48  -  63. 

"  January  2d.  Read  forty-four  pages  in  Benson's  sec 
ond  volume.  Mr.  Tracy's  Speech  in  the  Senate,  on  the 
passage  of  the  Amendment  of  the  Constitution  as  respects 
the  choice  of  President.  He  shows,  that,  in  the  Constitution, 
there  are  several  marks  of  concession  and  compromise  be 
tween  the  large  and  small  States.  That  the  Senate  is  a 
body  chosen  and  constituted  on  the  federative  principle  of 
State  equality,  which  was  the  principle  of  the  old  Confeder 
ation.  That  the  Hbuse  of  Representatives  is  elected  on  the 
popular  principle  of  a  majority  of  members,  and,  of  course, 
the  larger  States,  who  send  the  greater  number  of  represen 
tatives,  will  always  rule  here.  He  shows,  that,  in  the  old 
mode  of  choosing  President,  by  voting  for  two  persons,  it 
was  intended  that  there  should  be  a  chance  of  no  electoral 
choice,  which  would  throw  the  ultimate  decision  into  the 
hands  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  voting  by  States.  In 
such  an  event,  the  small  States  would  recover  that  influence 
which  they  would  not  have  enjoyed  in  the  popular  manner, 
because  their  proportion  of  electors  would  be  very  small. 
But  the  present  amendment  goes  to  secure  a  choice  by  the 
electors  in  the  first  instance.  Of  course,  the  great  States 
will  always  have  it  in  their  power  to  give  a  President  to  the 
Union,  and  the  federative  principle  is  destroyed.  The  Con 
stitution  requires  two  thirds  of  the  House  to  concur  in  an 
amendment.  Tracy  and  Plumer,  New  Hampshire,  con 
tended  that  this  mean ;  two  thirds  of  the  whole  House,  and 
not  of  the  members  present. 

"  January  6lh.  Finished  Belsham.  A  most  masterly 
compendium  and  recapitulation  of  the  argument  of  neces 
sity,  and  a  fair  statement  of  the  libertarian  objections.  The 
definition  of  philosophical  liberty,  given  by  Gregory,  is 
worthy  of  remark.  Read,  in  the  Monthly,  review  of  Dod- 
son's' Isaiah,  and  Sturgis's  reply. 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  241 

"January  Sth.  Read  3d  No.  of  Edinburgh  Review. 
Gentz  Etat  de  PEurope,  a  most  masterly  work.  Shep 
herd's  Poggia  Bracciolina.  The  reviewer  here  intimates 
an  opinion  that  the  praises  which  have  been  bestowed  upon 
Roscoe's  work  are  above  its  merits.  When  I  formerly  gave 
such  an  opinion,  it  was  reprobated  without  mercy.  Hay- 
ley's  Life  of  Cowper.  It  is  curious  to  observe  the  different 
decisions  of  these  Scotch  reviewers  and  the  Monthly,  in 
their  character  of  Hayley's  style.  The  Scotch  say,  '  The 
little  Mr.  Hayley  writes  in  these  volumes  is  by  no  means 
well  written.'  The  Monthly  says,  '  A  work  which,  on  the 
whole,  is  very  well  written.'  In  my  humble  opinion,  Hay- 
ley's  style  is  redundant,  sometimes  inflated,  often  slovenly. 
The  decisions  of  these  reviewers  are  delivered  with  the 
most  dogmatical  air,  and  with  all  the  contemptuousness  of 
youthful  criticism. 

"  January  9th.  Read,  before  breakfast,  Price's  Sermon 
on  the  Security  of  a  Virtuous  Course,  and  Barrow's  on  the 
same  text,  Prov.  x.  9.  Their  arrangement  is  dissimilar. 
How  much  more  pleasant  is  the  style  of  Price,  but  at  the 
distance  of  more  than  a  century  !  In  the  evening,  read 
Priestley's  Sermons  on  the  Duty  of  not  living  to  Our 
selves  and  on  the  Danger  of  Bad  Habits.  They  are  both 
admirable.  Read  Pope's  Pastorals  in  Wharton's  edition. 
Wharton  seems  to  write  notes 'merely  for  the  sake  of  find 
ing  fault  with  his  author.  He  prefers  the  Pastorals  of  The 
ocritus  to  Virgil's,  and  says  there  is  only  one  false  rhyme 
in  Pope's  first  Pastoral ! 

"  January  10th.  Read  Michaelis  on  the  Epistle  of  Peter, 
to  compare  him  with  Benson.  They  agree  in  opinion  as  to 
the  two  most  important  difficulties  in  this  epistle,  namely,  to 
whom  it  was  addressed  and  where  it  was  written.  Read,  al 
so,  Lardner's  Letter  on  the  Logos  and  First  Postscript.  This 
letter  was  written  in  1730,  when  the  Arian  controversy 
was  at  its  height,  and  is  a  remarkable  instance  of  private 
21 


242  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

investigation  and  unbiased  belief.  It  lay  unpublished  in 
the  author's  cabinet  nineteen  years. 

"January  \\tli.  Read  Lardner's  Second  Postscript, 
pp.  205.  Read  a  review  of  a  Dissertation,  published  by 
Teylor's  '  Theological  Society.'  It  proposes,  as  the  bond  of 
union  of  all  Christians,  '  the  belief  of  the  Divine  authority 
of  the  doctrines  of  Jesus.'  This  is  the  only  common  prin 
ciple  of  union. 

"  January  14th.  Read  Benson.  His  Dissertation  on 
1st  of  Peter,  iii.  17,  is  more  ingenious  and  probable  than 
the  other  opinions  which  he  enumerates,  but  even  this  must 
yield  to  the  interpretation  of  Wakefield. 

"  Read  again  the  review  of  Stewart's  account  of  Robert 
son  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  There  is  an  affectation  of 
refinement  in  this  critique  which  sometimes  disgusts  the 
reader. 

"  January  20th.  JBenson  and  Michaelis." 

He  goes  on  until  February  6th,  reading  Benson  and 
Michaelis.  The  remarks  are  omitted. 

"  February  1th.  Farmer  on  Demoniacs.  8th,  finished 
Farmer.  To  me,  he  is  learned,  ingenious,  temperate.  It 
must  have  been  very  difficult  for  the  antagonists  of  the 
overbearing  Warburton  to  keep  their  temper. 

"  February  9th.  Read  Symonds  on  the  Expediency 
of  Revising  the  English  Version  of  the  Four  Gospels. 
N  B. — Wakefield  has  corrected,  in  his  translation,  every 
error  mentioned  by  Symonds." 

From  this  time  till  the  first  of  April,  he  was  occupied 
\vith  Priestley's  History  of  the  Corruptions  of  Chris 
tianity, "the  Monthly  Review,  and  Horsely's  Charges 
against  Priestley.  He  appears  to  have  studied  the  con 
troversy  very  thoroughly,  and  to  have  given  the  Trini- 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  243 

tarian  hypothesis  a  complete  investigation.  His  re 
marks  upon  it  fill  ten  very  closely  written  pages  in 
his  commonplace  book. 

"  April  1st  and  2d.  Read  Fuller's  Calvinism  and  Socin- 
ianism  Compared.  It  is  an  ingenious  piece  of  argument,  and 
plausible  in  its  principle.  His  arguments,  however,  are  in 
some  measure  drawn  from  inconsiderate  expressions  of  So- 
cjnian  writers.  Vid.  Belsham's  Answer  to  Wilberforce.  But 
it  may  be  asked  if  the  influence  of  Calvinistic  doctrines  should 
be  allowed  to  be  as  great  as  it  has  been  represented.  Is 
not  this  influence  rather  an  operation  upon  the  passions 
than  on  the  understanding  ?  Is  not  the  tendency  of  Calvin 
ism  that  of  substituting  religious  affections  for  virtuous  ac 
tions  r  Does  not  the  whole  scope  of  Fuller's  reasoning  go 
to  prove  that  there  can  be  no  good  men  except  Calvinists  ? 

"  Read  Farmer's  Inquiry  into  the  Temptation  of  Christ. 
I  read  a  sermon  of  Massillon's  in  French  every  night,  be 
fore  going  to  bed.  One  or  two  chapters  in  the  Greek  Testa 
ment  in  the  morning. 

"  The  only  difficulty  in  Farmer's  scheme  of  the  Tempta 
tion  is  to  account  for  Christ's  being  tempted  with  what  he 
knew  to  be  a  mere  vision. 

"  April  10th.  Read,  Urquhart's  Commentaries  on  Clas 
sical  Learning.  Light,  graceful,  entertaining.  A  pleasant 
lady's  book  ! 

"  April  26th.  Third  volume  of  Priestley's  History  of 
the  Christian  Church.  It  is  evenings'  work.  Cursory.  Un 
worthy  of  Priestley. 

"  April  21th,  28//I,  29th.  Bishop  of  London's  Lectures 
on  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew.  It  is  impossible  to  commend 
this  work  too  highly.  It  is  plain,  popular,  convincing ;  pure 
and  even  elegant  in  language;  eloquent  in  its  appeals  to 
the  understanding  and  to  the  heart.  It  should  belong  to 
the  family  of  every  Christian. 


244  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

"  May  1st.  Read  Farmer  on  the  Worship  of  Human 
Spirits. 

"  May  1th  Michaelis  on  the  Introduction  to  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews.  Read  carefully  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews 
in  Wakefield's  translation,  comparing  it  with  our  own  and 
with  the  original. 

"  In  the  course  of  the  last  week,  read  Bishop  Hoadley 
on  the  Sacrament. 

"  May  16th,  17th,  18th,  19th.  Read  Hopton  Hayne's 
Scripture  Account,  pp.  336,  8vo. 

"  May  22d,  23d,  24th.  Heron's  Junius.  American 
edition.  2  vols.  8vo. 

"  May  26th,  21th.  Taylor's  Scripture  Doctrine  of  Orig 
inal  Sin,  with  Supplement,  pp.  500. 

"  May  28th.  Read  Bishop  Law's  Life  and  Character 
of  Christ,  pp.  142. 

"  At  my  father's  request,  read,  for  the  second  time,  Ed 
wards  on  Original  Sin. 

"  July  3d.  Began  Jamieson's  Vindication,  pp.  567. 
[Here  follow  some  pages  of  remarks.]  Jamieson's  Proofs 
from  Scripture  contain  little  new. 

"  July   10th.     Finished  Paley's  Natural  Philosophy. 

"  July  18th.  Read  Fellows's  Picture  of  Christian  Phi 
losophy. 

"  August  1st.  Read  Marsh's  Dissertation  for  the  second 
time. 

"  August  10/.A.  A  Series  of  Plays  on  the  Passions,  by 
Miss  Baillie. 

"  August  15/A  to  2Qth.  Dugald  Stewart's  Elements  of 
the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind.  This  is  the  work  of 
a  truly  original  thinker.  The  chapters  on  Association, 
Memory,  and  Imagination,  may  be  repeatedly  perused  with 
new  pleasure  and  increasing  profit.  The  most  bigoted  dog 
matist  cannot  be  offended.  Except  a  new  theory  of  con 
ception,  I  find  no  innovation  upon  Reid's  theory. 


JOUKNAL    OF    STUDIES.  245 

"  August  21th.  Began  to  read  Archbishop  Wake's  Apos 
tolic  Fathers.  The  only  pieces  in  this  collection  whose 
authority  is  undoubted  are  Clement's  First  Epistle  to  the 
Corinthians  and  Polycarp's  Second  to  Philippians.  [Mere 
follow  several  pages  of  remarks  upon  these  epistles,  with 
Greek  quotations.] 

"  October.  Read  Priestley's  Controversy  with  Rev.  Dr. 
Linn,  [of  Philadelphia.]  Has  not  Linn  the  decided  supe 
riority  in  the  argument  ? 

"  November.  Wakefield's  Inquiry,  &c.,  pp.  35.  [Here 
follow  remarks  which  are  omitted.]  Read  Bell  on  the  Sac 
rament,  pp.  204.  Supplement,  pp.  47. 

"  From  Dibdin's  Introduction  to  a  Knowledge  of  Editions 
of  the  Classics,  made  out  a  list  of  classical  authors  to  be 
procured." 

Here  intervenes  an  illness  of  some  weeks,  during 
which  he  writes,  "  I  have  indulged  myself  in  various 
and  desultory  reading,  during  the  horaz  subsecivw  of 
convalescence." 

"Read  Benson  on  Unity  of  Sense;  compared  him  with 
Michaelis  on  Quotations  from  the  Old  Testament.  [Here 
follow  remarks  which  are  omitted.] 

"  January,  1805.  Read  Toulmin's  Life  of  Faustus  Socin- 
ius,  pp.  471,  8vo.  It  is  one  of  the  most  hasty  and  meagre 
compilations  I  ever  read.  The  facts  in  the  Life  of  Socinius 
are  few,  and  the  volume  is  swelled  with  long  extracts  from 
his  works.  He  was  an  Italian,  born  in  Sienna,  1539.  It 
is  probable  that  the  sentiments  of  his  uncle  Lcelius  had 
more  influence  on  the  mind  of  Faustus,  in  forming  his  opin 
ions,  than  Toulmin  is  willing  to  admit.  It  appears  that 
Faustus  paid  no  attention  to  theological  inquiries  till  he 
had  attained  the  age  of  thirty  years,  so  that,  for  his  opin 
ions,  we  must  probably  look  to  his  uncle.  Neither  can  we 
21* 


246  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

discover  that  his  mind  passed  through  any  of  those  suc 
cessive  revolutions  of  opinion,  which  have  marked,  and 
must  mark,  the  intellectual  history  of  eminent  men.  He 
does  not  appear  to  have  digested  his  peculiar  creed  with 
any  great  method  or  accuracy,  and  his  sentiments  are 
frequently  inconsistent,  and  sometimes  obscure. 

"  Disney's  Life  of  Jortin  is  still  more  meagre  and  unin 
teresting. 

"  Teignmouth's  Life  of  Sir  William  Jones.  Lord  Teign- 
mouth  insinuates  that  Sir  William  believed  the  Divinity  of 
Jesus  Christ  according  to  the  articles  of  the  Church  of  Eng 
land,  of  which  nothing  he  has  quoted  affords  conclusive  evi 
dence  ;  and  also  the  common  doctrine  of  atonement,  of 
which  there  is  not  one  word  in  all  Sir  William  ever  wrote. 
But  he  grounds  his  assertion  on  this  clause  in  one  of  his 
prayers,  —  'the  mercy  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ.' 

"  Read  Rotherham  on  Faith.  1  am  exceedingly  dis 
appointed  in  this  essay.  It  was  written  to  counteract  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Methodists.  It  is  a  good  antidote  against 
Antinomianism,  but  removes  few  of  the  difficulties  respect 
ing  the  meaning  of  the  word  faith.  I  have  learned,  by 
repeated  disappointments,  not  to  form  too  high  expectations 
of  a  work  which  I  have  heard  often  commended  and  seen 
often  quoted. 

"  Read  Sallust's  Catiline  and  Jugurtha  in  Hunter's  edi 
tion.  I  have  lately  read  Xenophon  again.  Also  Gilbert 
Wakefield's  Life. 

"  Read-  L*ocke's  Vindication  of  the  Reasonableness  of 
Christianity ;  and  his  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  and 
Letters  to  Molineux.  Mr.  Locke  often  seems  anxious  to  ex 
press  to  some  friend,  in  person,  the  result  of  his  inquiries. 
O  that  his  conferences  with  Molineux,  when  he  came  to 
England,  could  have  been  recorded !  Should  we  not  have 
learned  more  of  the  doctrine  of  association  and  of  nice 
points  in  theology  ? 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  247 

"  June.  Finished  Lowth  on  Sacred  Poetry,  comparing 
with  Michaelis. 

"  September.  President  Nott  preached  in  Brattle  Street. 
The  fullest  audience  ever  known  there  except  on  ordination 
day.  Epigram  made  on  him  by  Josiah  Quincy  :  — 

'  Delight  and  instruction  have  people,  I  wot, 
Who  in  seeing,  not  see,  and  in  hearing,  hear  not.' 

"  Burnet,  De  Fide  et  Officiis.  Pleasant  and  catholic.  It 
might  be  of  use  if  translated  into  English. 

"  Read  Le  Clerc's  Ars  Critica.  What  a  wonderful 
man  was  Le  Clerc !  Learned,  to  an  extent  almost  un 
equalled  by  any  who  have  succeeded  him ;  liberal,  per 
haps  to  a  fault ;  perspicuous  and  pleasant  in  his  critical 
works ;  the  worthy  successor  of  Grotius ;  the  contem 
porary  of  Bayle  ;  and  the  model  of  the  Jortins  and  Lowths 
and  Warburtons,  who  have  since  admired  and  imitated  him. 
What  might  not  have  been  expected  from  him,  had  he  en 
joyed  the  light  thrown  upon  criticism  and  theology  since 
his  death  !  Read,  also,  Le  Clerc's  five  Letters  on  Inspiration, 
pp.  237. 

"  Read  G.  Sharp's  book  on  the  Greek  Article.  His  first 
rule,  which  is  the  only  important  one,  is,  that  when  two 
nouns  of  personal  description  follow  one  another,  the  first 
of  which  has  the  article,  and  the  second  not,  and  they  are 
connected  with  a  copulative,  they  both  refer  to  the  same 
subject.  The  most  important  passage,  which  would  be 
affected  by  this  rule,  is  in  Titus*  ii.  13,  which  he  would 
render.  '  appearance  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  great  God  and 
Saviour.'  But  the  exceptions  are  so  numerous  that  the 
rule  is  almost  useless,  arid  thus  instances  contradicting  it 
are  found  without  difficulty.  Gregory  Blunt's  Six  Letters 
are  hardly  a  satisfactory  reply,  because  he  argues  rather 
from  the  nature  of  the  thing  than  from  a  critical  inquiry 
into  the  use  of  the  Greek  article.  Wistanley's  vindication 


248  PROPOSAL    OF    A    VOYAGE. 

of  our  common  version  in  the  texts  in  question,  is,  to  my 
mind,  decisive,  though  he  is  exceedingly  biased  in  some  of 
his  remarks  by  his  Arian  system. 

"  October  1st.  Morgan's  Collection  of  Tracts,  occasioned 
by  the  Trinitarian  Controversy.  London,  1726.  Read 
Maury's  Eloge  de  St.  Augustin  et  de  Fenelon.  What  can 
exceed  the  onction  of  the  latter  saint-like  man  and  writer  ? 
The  life  of  Augustin  is  a  true  extravaganza." 

During  the  whole  lime  of  this  journal,  he  was  study 
ing  Hebrew  and  translating  Greek,  beside  writing  his 
earliest  sermons. 

Actively  engaged  as  my  brother  had  been  in  the  year 
since  his  settlement,  his  health  had  by  no  means  im 
proved.  The  attacks  of  his  malady  had  so  far  increased, 
that,  as  appears  from  a  record  which  he  kept  among  his 
private  papers,  they  had  been  nearly  double  the  number  of 
the  preceding  year.  In  the  spring  of  1806,  his  intimate 
friends,  among  whom  was  an  eminent  physician,  the 
elder  Dr.  Warren,  advised  relaxation,  a  total  suspension 
of  study,  and  a  voyage  to  Europe.  In  his  letter  to  his 
parish,  requesting  leave  of  absence,  he  says,  u  It  would 
be  superfluous  for  me  to  dwell  upon  the  painful  senti 
ments  with  which  I  suggest  the  idea  of  this  temporary 
separation,  for  our  mutual  attachment  to  each  other  is 
too  great  to  need  any  assurance  of  this  kind." 

The  proposal,  as  did  every  thing  which  had  a  near  or 
remote  tendency  to  improve  his  health  and  alleviate  his 
cares,  met  with  the  prompt  and  generous  acquiescence 
of  the  Brattle  Street  society. 

His  father  consented  with  reluctance  to  this  sepa 
ration.  In  his  letter,  in  answer  to  the  one  informing 
him  of  the  generous  acquiescence  of  the  parish,  he  says, 
u  I  shall  deeply  regret  that  you  should  be  so  long 


CORRESPONDENCE.  249 

absent,  —  perhaps,  to  me,  for  ever  absent,  —  but  my 
principle  has  always  been  to  sacrifice  my  wishes  to  the 
interests  of  my  children."  His  father  was  at  this  time 
suffering  from  deep  depression,  augmented  by  many 
causes  besides  the  recent  death  of  his  second  wife. 
At  the  times  of  his  depression,  he  was  always  discour 
aged  respecting  the  state  of  religion  in  his  parish,  the 
little  good  that  he  had  been  able  to  effect,  and  a  general 
fear  of  unfaithfulness.  At  this  time,  he  wrote  to  his  son 
in  this  desponding  strain  :  — 

"  My  daughters  are  amiable  ;  they  strive  to  make  my 
desolate  home  cheerful  to  me  ;  they  try  to  surround  their 
broken-hearted  father  with  many  comforts,  that  he  may  for 
get  his  inestimable  loss ;  but  I  have  no  evidence  that  they 
are  the  subjects  of  grace,  or  that  they  belong  to  the  new 
covenant." 

In  conformity  with  Dr.  Buckminster's  theory  of  re 
ligion,  he  could  not  regard  his  children  with  entire  ap 
probation,  because  Calvinism  makes  no  appeal  to  the 
sentiment  of  duty  ;  —  nature  and  grace  are  opposed. ' 
That  which  he  could  approve  was  not  any  amiable  dis 
position,  strengthened  by  effort,  but  something  superin 
duced  ;  he  must  have  regarded  them,  therefore,  rather 
with  tenderness  and  pity  than  with  respectful  approbation. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  also,  that  one  cause  of  the 
father's  depression  was  his  disappointment  in  his  son's 
views  of  religion,  and  the  general  prevalence  of  liberal 
interpretations  of  Christianity.  This,  in  him,  was  not 
the  result  of  bigotry.  To  him,  a  sincere  Calvinist, 
his  own  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  Christ  and 
the  apostles  was  vital  to  the  peace  of  his  heart.  It 
was  the  life's  breath  of  his  religion,  the  aliment  of  his 


250  LETTER    OF    DR.    BUCKMIJNfSTER. 

devotion,  the  only  sure  support  of  bis  hopes  of  the  fu 
ture  bliss  of  heaven.  He  could  not  hut  acknowledge 
that  his  son's  life  was  exemplary  ;  that  his  preaching  had 
not  only  been  admired,  but  attended  with  eminent  suc 
cess  ;  that  his  example  had  been  alluring  to  the  young  to 
induce  them  to  lead  a  religious  life  ;  and  yet  he  felt  that 
the  foundation  of  all  this  was  false  and  insecure. 

When  the  voyage  was  finally  determined  upon,  he 
wrote  to  his  son  in  a  more  encouraging  and  cheerful 
strain. 

«  May  6,  18G6. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  have  hoped  that  I  should  be  able 
to  see  you  again  before  you  sailed ;  and  when  Mr.  Lowell 
came  in  last  evening,  the  hope  brightened  again  ;  but  I  have 
so  much  of  a  cold,  in  consequence  of  exposures,  by  which 
my  habitual  cough  is  much  increased,  that  I  am  persuaded 
it  is  imprudent  to  think  of  going  again  to  Boston,  even 
though  so  many  disappointments  are  the  consequence  of  my 
remaining  at  home. 

"  Your  voyage  is  fixed  and  determined  upon,  and,  as  far 
as  I  can  judge,  upon  those  principles  and  with  those  views 
by  which  we  must  be  governed  in  the  present  state.  You 
may,  therefore,  I  conceive,  consider  it  a  matter  of  duty,  and 
have  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  undertake  it  with  firmness 
and  religious  confidence,  and  pursue  it  with  a  constant  reli 
ance  upon  Divine  Providence  for  support,  protection,  and  re 
straint.  And  we,  who  are  left  bereaved,  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  acquiesce,  to  follow  you  with  our  best  wishes  and 
prayers,  and  to  look  and  long  for  the  time  of  your  return. 
You  will  be  in  new  situations,  and  new  scenes  will  be 
continually  opening  to  your  view  ;  I  hope  you  will  en 
deavour  to  be  always  self-possessed,  and  under  the  com 
manding  influence  of  reason  and  religion,  and  let  neither 
your  fears  nor  your  joys  transport  you.  You  have  proba- 


LETTER    OF    DR.    BUCKM1NSTER.  251 

bly  often  heard  me  mention  a  resolution  of  your  own  dear 
mothers,  early  formed,  and  steadily  adhered  to,  '  never  to  let 
her  passions  so  far  get  the  ascendency  as  to  disqualify  her 
for  acting,  or  hurry  her  to  resolutions  or  conduct  which  her 
reason  and  her  conscience  would  not  afterwards  approve.' 

"  If  you  should  be  tolerably  well  on  shipboard,  and  have 
pleasant  weather,  I  hope  you  will  find  yourself  disposed  to 
serve,  and  your  shipmates  desirous  and  willing  to  regard  you, 
as  the  regular  chaplain  to  the  ship ;  and  while  the  master  is 
taking  his  observation  of  the  material  heavens,  the  minister 
on  board  will  be  daily  endeavouring  to  help  him,  and  all 
others,  to  take  observation  of  the  heavens  that  are  higher 
than  they  ;  and  that  your  track  through  the  ocean,  instead  of 
being  marked  with  profanity,  will  be  distinguished  from 
others  by  prayer  and  praises  to  God.  If  you  should  meet 
with  storms  and  tempests,  you  will  remember  who  holdeth 
the  winds  in  his  fists,  and  who  is  able  to  say,  'Peace,  be 
still.'  Let  not  the  admonition,  that  was  once  addressed  to  a 
sleeping  prophet,  be  ever  addressed  to  you. 

"  When  you  get  to  the  lands  of  science,  of  wealth,  and 
of  wondeiful  improvement  in  the  arts,  and  see  great  men, 
and  witness  great  events,  I  hope  you  will  not  forget  that  the 
most  wonderful  character  that  was  ever  on  the  earth  is  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  the  knowledge  of  him  is  true 
science,  and  love  and  obedience  to  him  true  wisdom,  and 
that  if  any  man  would  become  truly  wise,  he  must  become 
a  fool  in  the  estimation  of  the  men  of  the  world. 

"  To  say  that  I  am  not  anxious  about  you,  my  son,  would 
be  to  belie  the  father  and  his  feelings  ;  but  I  am  able,  in  all 
humility,  to  commit  you  to  that  God  to  whom  I  early  gave 
you,  who  has  always  watched  over  you,  and  who,  I  trust, 
will  still  keep  you.  To  him  may  you  yet  be  made  a  faith 
ful  son  and  servant.  The  last  prayer  of  a  father  is,  may 
the  voyage  establish  your  health,  improve  your  mind,  in 
crease  your  piety,  perfect  you  in  the  love  of  God,  and  in 


252  DEPARTURE  FOR  EUROPE. 

due  lime  restore  you  to  your  friends  and   duties,  in  the  ful 
ness  of  the  blessing  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 

"  Your  affectionate  father." 

"  May  6th,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  The  time  approaches  when  I  must 
bid  adieu  to  much  that  I  fervently  love.  It  is  one  of  the 
severest  trials  that  I  ever  experienced,  and  that  was  not  a 
small  part  of  it  which  I  endured  at  Portsmouth.  I  am 
sometimes  tempted  to  hope  that  you  will  not  come  up  be 
fore  I  go." 

'A  few  days  after  :  — 

"  Tuesday  morning.  By  God's  help  I  have  gone  through 
the  most  painful  circumstances  attending  my  departure,  that 
is,  the  exercises  on  the  Sabbath.  I  preached  all  day,  and 
was  very  much  disappointed  that  Mr.  Lowell  did  not  return. 

"  I  am  waiting  with  anxiety,  expecting  every  moment  a 
summons  to  go  on  board ;  but  if  the  wind  gets  round  to  the 
eastward,  I  shall  have  another  day  of  pain  in  taking  leave. 
Indeed,  my  dear  sir,  all  the  trials  of  my  life  have  borne  no 
kind  of  proportion  to  the  anguish  of  this  departure,  for  I 
have  been  overwhelmed  with  kindness  and  affection.  A 
whole  life  of  devotion  can  hardly  repay  it. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  hear  how  your  cold  is. 
Your  letter  did  not  alarm  me  much,  though,  upon  reflection, 
I  have  been  afraid  that  your  cough  is  more  serious.  The 
Sally  will  sail  in  ten  days  for  Liverpool,  when  you  must 
not  fail  to  write  me  particularly.  My  love  to  my  dear  sis 
ters.  God  in  his  mercy  for  ever  bless  them  !  They  shall 
have  a  line  by  the  return  of  the  pilot-boat. 

"  Your  dear  son." 

During  my  brother's  absence,  his  salary  was  continued, 
and  he  bore  the  expense  of  supplying  the  pulpit.  Un 
der  this  liberal  arrangement,  a  committee  was  appointed 


DR.    BUCKMINSTER    TO    HIS    SON.  253 

to  engage  the  preachers,  and  his  father  went  five  times 
to  Boston  to  preach  for  his  son.  It  was  so  arranged 
that  he  usually  administered  the  communion.  At  such 
times,  he  visited  those  of  the  parish  who  were  ill,  or 
who  desired  ministerial  visits.  To  show  that  his  letters 
were  not  always  filled  with  serious  admonitions,  one  is 
here  introduced,  written  when  he  visited  Boston  the  first 
time  after  his  son's  absence  :  — 

"  Boston,  June  2,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  Among  the  flood  of  letters  which  you 
will  receive  by  the  hand  of  Mr.  Thacher,  and  the  happiness 
you  will  experience  in  unexpectedly  finding  him  so  soon 
after  you,  it  will  be  gratifying  to  you  to  have  a  line  from 
your  father,  who,  more  than  any  man  living,  naturally  cares 
for  your  state,  and  whose  comfort  and  earthly  happiness 
depend  more  naturally  upon  you  than  upon  any  other.  I 
intended  to  have  written  to  you  by  the  Sally,  but  the  vessel 
sailed  before  my  return  from  Northampton,  where  I  spent 
the  last  Sabbath  with  my  old  college  friend  and  companion, 
Mr.  Williams,  whom  I  found  exceedingly  full  of  ministerial 
duty,  there  being  a  very  great  attention  to  religion  among  his 
young  people.  I  returned  to  Boston  the  morning  of  election- 
day,  and  entered  into  the  hubbub  and  excitement  of  election 
and  convention.  Mr.  Shepherd,  the  preacher  on  election- 
day,  is  a  man  of  talents  and  of  piety ;  but  it  was  so  late  be 
fore  the  jangling  and  wrangling  court*  could  get  prepared 
to  go  to  the  meeting-house,  that  many  of  the  audience  thought 
his  sermon  too  long.  Dr.  Lyman,  of  Hatfield,  preached  the 
convention  sermon  in  your  desk,  and  delivered  a  concio  ad 
clerum  with  his  usual  independence,  animation,  and  zeal ; 
and,  though  it  contained  some  sentiments  a  little  different 

*  This  was  after  a  bitterly  contested  election  between  Gov.  Strong 
and  Gov.  Sullivan. 

22 


254  DR.    BUCKMINSTER    TO    HIS    SON. 

from  those  which  have  lately  been  heard  there,  I  think  they 
are  not  different  from  what  may  yet  be  there  heard  again 

"  Sabbath  evening.  I  have  been  all  this  day  in  your  pul 
pit,  attempting  to  preach  to  your  people.  Having  left  my 
gown  at  home,  Deacon  Thacher  furnished  me  with  his 
father's  ;  but  alas  !  it  did  not  make  me  the  popular  and  be 
loved  preacher  that  he  was.  Some  old  ladies  looked  very 
hard  at  the  gown,  but  heard  not  the  voice  '  so  wonderfully 
sweet.'  I  introduced  into  the  church  those  persons  who 
were  propounded  before  you  went,  and  propounded  two 
others.  The  two  Governors,  Strong  and  Sullivan,  were  at 
the  communion-table.  I  could  not  but  think  how  they  felt 
towards  each  other.  I  dined  at  Deacon  Storer's,  in  company 

with ,  and  preached  this  afternoon  upon  the  wisdom 

and  goodness  of  Providence  in  all  its  dispensations. 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  son,  you  will  take  due  precaution,  in 
your  journeying,  that  you  do  not  expose, yourself  to  acci 
dents.  You  will  not  travel,  I  trust,  without  a  companion, 
nor  without  a  servant.  I  hope  you  will  read  and  study  very 
little,  and  pray  much.  Many  new  temptations  will  assail 
you.  Let  your  heart  be  established  by  grace  and  the  fear 
and  love  of  God.  Trust  not  in  any  creature,  however  ex 
alted,  but  trust  in  the  living  God.  My  dearest  son,  to  God  I 
commend  you,  and  with  him  I  leave  you. 

"  J.  BUCKMINSTER. " 


CHAPTER     XIV. 

JOURNAL   OF  J.   S.  BUCKMINSTER   IN    LONDON. JOURNAL   AND 

LETTERS    UPON    THE    CONTINENT. 

1S06-7.  MR.  BUCKMINSTER  embarked  in  the  packet- 
Aged  23.  ship  J0hn  Adams,  about  the  10th  of  May,  for 
Liverpool,  where  he  arrived  June  6th,  and  from  thence 
travelled  by  post-horses  to  London,  where  he  was  re 
ceived  at  the  house  of  Samuel  Williams,  Esq.,  the  broth 
er  of  his  excellent  friends,  the  Lymans.  There  he  again 
met  his  early  friend,  Mr.  Francis  Williams,  and  his  resi 
dence  was  made  delightful  by  every  attention  that  refined 
hospitality  and  sincere  attachment  could  bestow.  Early 
in  August,  he  was  joined  by  his  intimate  friend,  Rev. 
Samuel  C.  Thacher,  and  together  they  embarked  for 
the  continent,  and  landed  at  Harlingen,  on  the  Zuyder 
Zee.  They  passed  rapidly  through  Holland  and  a  part 
of  Belgium,  ascended  the  Rhine,  and,  partly  on  foot, 
made  a  tour  of  Switzerland.  Joseph  kept  a  very  full 
journal  of  this  journey  upon  the  continent,  of  which  a 
small  part  has  been  published  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  de 
scribing  the  fall  of  part  of  the  Rossburg  mountain  in 
Switzerland.  They  were  often  put  to  inconvenience  in 
this  tour  by  meeting  with  Bonaparte's  new-made  kings, 
also  on  their  travels,  who  usually  monopolized  all  the 
post-horses,  and  made  humble  travellers  wait.  Readers 


256  JOURNAL    IN    LONDOiN. 

have  been  so  completely  satiated  with  travels  in  Hol 
land  and  Switzerland,  that  no  extracts  from  the  jour 
nal  in  those  countries  will  be  introduced  here.  It  may 
be  remarked,  that  the  description  of  the  fall  of  the  Ross- 
burg  *  is  a  fair  specimen  of  its  merits. 

As  soon  as  he  arrived  in  London,  he  found  himself  in 
the  midst  of  a  delightful  circle  of  friends.  A  short  ex 
tract  from  his  journal  while  there  will  give  some  idea  of 
the  enchantment  of  this  society  to  a  young  man  of 
twenty-three. 

"  Tuesday,  June  26th.  Dined  with  Dr.  Rees,  editor  of 
the  Encyclopedia.  Introduced  to  Dr.  Aiken  and  his  son 
Charles.  To  Mr.  Jones,  the  author  of  a  Greek  grammar. 
At  the  dinner  there  was  a  truly  pleasant  and  instructive  con 
versation.  It  turned  upon  the  evidences  of  a  future  state 
from  the  light  of  nature.  Dr.  Rees  is  a  man  of  amiable 
manners,  various  learning,  some  anecdote,  and  talents  more 
than  common. 

u  Thursday,  %8th.  Breakfasted  with  Mr.  Jones.  We  had 
a  truly  learned  and  delightful  conversation.  Mr. -Jones  had 
studied  with  Gilbert  Wakefield. 

"  Monday,  July  2d.  Went  to  the  British  Museum  at 
twelve  o'clock.  Dined  at  Mr.  William  Vaughan's,  in  com 
pany  with  Granville  Sharp,  Dr.  Aiken  and  Charles,  Mr. 
Ellis,  a  writer  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  G.  S.  fully  be 
lieves  in  the  agency  of  a  personal  devil  in  the  vices  of  man 
kind. 

"  Tuesday.  Dined  at  Dr.  Rees's,  with  Mr.  Belsham,  Mr. 
Tooke,  Mr.  William  Taylor  of  Norwich.  Conversation  de 
lightful.  The  tone  is  certainly  higher  than  with  us. 

"  Wednesday.  At  Mr.  William  Vaughan's,  with  a  learned 
party. 

*  Published  first  in  the  Anthology.  It  also  makes  a  part  of  J.  S. 
BucKininster's  Works,  first  collected  in  1839. 


JOURNAL    IN    LONDON.  257 

"  Thursday.  Breakfasted  at  Sir  Joseph  Banks's.  Intro 
duced  to  Sir  Charles  Blagden,  and  Mr.  William  Smith, 
President  of  the  Linnoean  Society.  Dined  with  Mr.  Jones. 
Introduced  to  Dr.  Young,  of  the  Scots'  Church. 

"  Saturday.     Dined  at  Hackney,  with  Mr.  Belsham. 

"  Sunday.     Attended  church  at  the  Foundling   Hospital. 

"  Monday.  Dined  at  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jervis's,  Gray's  Inn 
Square,  with  a  large  party.  Supped  at  Gilbert  Wakefield's, 
with  only  his  daughter  present. 

"  Tuesday.  Dined  at  Sir  Joseph  Banks's  in  the  country. 
Present,  Sir  Charles  Blagden,  Mr.  Dalrymple,  author  of  a 
Collection  of  Voyages,  Mr.  William  Smyth,  by  favor  of 
a  ticket  from  whom,  I  went  to  the  House  of  Commons  in 
the  evening.  Subject :  American  Intercourse  bill.  Mr. 
Grant,  Master  of  the  Rolls,  spoke  against  it.  Lord  Henry 
Petty  in  explanation.  Next  day,  I  was  introduced  to  Lord 
Henry  Petty  at  Mr.  Vaughan's,  and  to  Mr.  Planta,  Librarian 
of  the  British  Museum. 

"  Thursday.     Dined  at  Mr.  Grant's,  Master  of  the  Rolls. 

"  July  8th.  Called  on  Mr,..  Wilberforce,  by  appointment, 
and  found  him  at  dinner.  As  I  was  engaged  to  dine,  I  ac 
cepted  an  invitation  for  another  day." 

A  month  was  passed  in  this  delightful  manner  in  Lon 
don,  and  he  had  invitations  from  a  constantly  increasing 
circle  of  literary  persons  for  another  month.  But  an 
attack  of  his  complaint  warned  him  that  he  must  com 
plete  his  tour  in  Switzerland  before  cold  weather,  and 
he  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Thacher,  tore  themselves  away 
from  the  fascination  of  London  society. 

From  Switzerland  the  friends  directed  their  course  to 
Paris,  where  their  residence  was  protracted  to  more 
than  five  months,  while  nearly  all  correspondence  with 
England  was  cut  off  by  the  operation  of  the  Berlin  and 

22* 


258  RESIDENCE    IN    PARIS. 

Milan  decrees.  At  the  same  time,  there  was  no  direct 
communication  with  the  United  States  from  France. 
The  enchantments  of  Paris  failed  in  some  degree  of  their 
influence  upon  my  brother.  Even  where  the  treasures 
of  the  whole  continent  were  collected,  he  could  not  be 
entirely  contented,  because  the  objects  that  would  most 
conduce  to  the  great  purpose  of  his  life  were  not  there. 
He  measured  every  thing,  not  by  the  relations  of  pleas 
ure,  but  of  duty,  and  dwelt 

"  As  ever  in  the  great  Taskmaster's  eye." 

He  kept  no  journal  of  his  residence  in  Paris,  but 
merely  wrote  with  a  pencil,  in  a  common  pocket-book, 
descriptions  of  some  of  the  interesting  persons  with 
whom  he  became  acquainted.  These  are  nearly  ef 
faced  ;  the  names  of  Madame  de  Stael,  Benjamin  Con 
stant,  Count  Rumford,  only  give  rise  to  regret  that  the 
remarks  of  so  young  and  fresh  an  observer  upon  persons 
now  consecrated  for  ever  to  fame  should  be  lost.  He 
witnessed  two  very  interesting  events  in  Paris.  At  the 
sitting  of  the  great  Jewish  Sanhedrim,  convened  by  Na 
poleon,  in  the  winter  of  1806-7,  he  was  present,  and 
took  notes.  He  was  also  present  at  the  reception  of 
Cardinal  Maury  at  the  Institute.  It  was  to  have  been  a 
grand  public  reception,  but  the  Cardinal  insisted  upon 
being  addressed  by  the  title  of  Monsigneur,  which  he 
conceived  he  had  a  right  to  demand,  but  which  his  col 
leagues  of  the  Institute  were  not  disposed  to  grant. 
The  dispute  was  submitted  to  the  Emperor,  who  post 
poned  the  public  reception.  It  was  therefore  private, 
but  not  the  less  interesting. 

These  five  months  in  Paris,  amid  the  unappreciable 
and  inexhaustible  treasures  of  Europe  and  of  the  fine 


RESIDENCE    IN    PARIS.  259 

arts  at  this  time  collected  and  stored  there  by  Bona 
parte,  must  have  been  most  rich  in  instruction.  Prob 
ably  the  strict  surveillance  exercised  over  foreigners, 
especially  those  so  much  resembling  Englishmen,  was 
the  reason  that  no  journal  or  record  was  kept  of  his  resi 
dence  in  Paris.  Much  of  his  time  was  spent  in  collect 
ing  and  sending  to  America  a  valuable  library  of  the 
choicest  writers  in  theological,  classical,  and  general  lit 
erature,  amounting  to  about  three  thousand  volumes. 
For  this  purpose  he  spent  nearly  the  whole  of  his  little 
maternal  fortune,  saying  to  himself,  "  Thou  hast  goods 
laid  up  for  many  years."  This  exulting  remark  is 
immediately  followed  by  the  reflection,  —  "  Although 
I  may,  by  the  Providence  of  God,  be  cut  off  from  the 
enjoyment  of  these  luxuries  of  the  mind,  they  will  be  a 
treasure  to  those  who  may  succeed  me,  like  the  hoards 
of  a  miser  scattered  after  his  death.  I  feel  that,  by 
every  book  which  I  send  out,  I  do  something  for  my 
dear  country,  which  the  love  of  money  seems  to  be  de 
pressing  into  unlettered  barbarism." 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  was  written  forty 
years  ago  ;  and  perhaps  remarks  like  the  above,  and  the 
energies  of  his  young  mind  directed  to  this  purpose,  did 
something  towards  awakening  the  love  of  literature, 
which  has  since  gone  hand  in  hand  with  the  love  of 
money,  in  that  part  of  the  State  which  claimed  his  fond 
est  affection. 

Since  the  days  of  this  visit  to  the  old  world,  the  pub 
lic  has  become  so  familiar  with  the  objects  of  interest 
that  claimed  his  attention,  that  great  reluctance  has  been 
felt  to  make  such  selections  from  his  letters  as  will  con 
tinue  the  thread  of  the  narrative.  Had  they  been  pub 
lished  at  the  time  they  were  written,  when  England  and 


260  IMPRESSIONS    OF    SEA    LIFE. 

France  were  comparatively  new  to  travellers  from  the 
United  States,  they  would  have  possessed  an  interest 
from  the  freshness  of  remark  everywhere  exhibited.  As 
the  reflection  has  been  constantly  forced  upon  me,  that 
the  places  and  objects  of  art  have  become  familiar  to  us, 
and  that  the  persons  with  whom  he  became  acquainted, 
however  celebrated  then,  have  faded  from  the  memory 
of  the  present,  I  have  erased  page  after  page  of  letters 
that  I  had  copied,  and  have  retained  only  those  that  ex 
hibit  the  mind  and  feelings  of  the  writer  ;  so  that,  if  an 
interest  has  been  awakened  in  him,  they  may,  by  their 
personality,  impart  more  freshness  to  this  memoir  of  his 
life. 

We  go  back  to  his  arrival  in  Liverpool,  and  begin 
with  his  first  letter.  To  his  father  :  — 

"  Liverpool,  June  6th,  18C6. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  Every  thing  seems  to  have  con 
spired,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  to  make  our  passage 
pleasant,  safe,  and  quick.  I  have  now  been  a  few  hours  in 
Liverpool,  and  find  that  a  vessel  sails  early  to-morrow 
morning  for  Boston.  These  few  lines  will  tell  you  that  we 
have  had  a  passage  of  twenty-three  days  ;  that  1  have  hard 
ly  known  any  of  the  dangers  or  trials  of  the  sea.  I  cannot 
find  a  single  subject  of  complaint  in  any  of  the  circumstances 
of  this  voyage.  The  order  of  the  ship  was  surprising,  and 
far  beyond  what  I  had  anticipated.  I  have  not  heard  more 
than  three  instances  of  profane  language  op  board,  which  I 
could  not  have  said  if  I  had  remained  in  Boston.  We  had 
religious  services  on  every  Sabbath  ;  once,  I  read  printed 
sermons,  and  the  other  days  my  own.  The  shortness  of 
the  passage  will  hardly  allow  me  to  form  any  opinion  of  its 
probable  effect  on  my  health.  But,  whether  it  should  be 
favorable  or  useless,  or  even  unfavorable,  I  shall  submit,  I 
hope,  with  resignation,  satisfied  that  the  step  I  have  taken 
was  the  dictate  of  duty. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  261 

"  I  cannot  be  sufficiently  grateful  to  the  kind  and  protect 
ing  Providence  of  God,  which  has  made  my  voyage  so 
pleasant,  so  safe,  and  so  short.  I  shall  have  company  up  to 
London,  where  I  shall  go  in  a  few  days,  by  the  way  of 
Manchester.  My  love  to  my  dear  sisters  and  all  friends. 
God  grant  that  I  may  never  again  be  obliged  to  undergo  the 
dreadful  pain  of  parting  from  them  !  " 

He  writes  the  same  day  to  his  sisters  :  — 

"  Within  the  last  hour,  I  put  my  foot  on  the  wharf  at  Liv 
erpool,  after  a  passage  of  twenty-three  days  from  Boston. 
I  have  very  few  wonders,  or  i  moving  accidents  by  flood,'  to 
recount  ;  but  the  trifling  varieties  of  my  voyage  will  not,  I 
am  confident,  be  more  interesting  to  any  person  in  my  dear 
native  land  than  to  you,  my  beloved  sisters,  who  have  so 
often  listened,  with  concern  and  pleasure,  to  the  narrative  of 
your  dear  brother's  fortunes  when  at  home  ;  and  I  am  sure 
the  eagerness  with  which  you  will  receive  this  letter,  com 
pared  with  the  eagerness  with  which  you  have  formerly 
opened  my  letters,  will  be  increased  quite  in  proportion  to 
the  distance.  During  the  voyage,  I  gazed  frequently,  think 
ing  of  you,  my  beloved  sisters,  with  silent  wonder  and  de 
light,  at  the  sun,  quenching  his  fiery  beams  as  he  sank  in  the 
waves  of  the  western  ocean,  and  enjoyed  the  thought  that 
to  you,  in  Portsmouth,  he  had  not  yet  disappeared ;  but  that 
you  would  be  blessed,  this  day,  with  several  hours  more  of 
sunshine,  (may  it  be  also  that  of  the  heart,)  after  your 
brother  had  retired  to  rest 

"  Nothing  alarming  or  wonderful  occurred  during  the  re 
mainder  of  our  voyage.  We  have  taken  excellent  lodgings 
at  the  Star  and  Garter,  in  Liverpool.  The  gentlemen  to 
whom  I  have  had  letters  of  introduction  have  treated  me 
with  every  possible  civility.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Yates,  a  dissent 
ing  minister,  in  Liverpool,  to  whom  I  delivered  my  first  let 
ter,  asked  me  to  dine  with  him  the  next  day,  (Sunday,)  and 


262  LETTERS  FROM  EUROPE. 

urged  me  much  to  preach  for  him ;  but  I  declined.  In  the 
evening,  I  walked  out  with  his  son,  and  took  tea  at  his  son's 
little,  elegant  cottage,  about  a  mile  from  the  town ;  returned 
about  nine  o'clock,  and  supped  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Yates  and 
a  few  friends,  to  some  of  whom  I  had  letters  of  introduction. 

"  June  13th.  The  ladies  in  Liverpool  dress  much,  and 
are  rather  fond  of  being  gazed  at.  You  would  be  aston 
ished  to  find  how  stout  and  robust  are  the  English  women. 
I  have  hardly  seen  ten  slender  forms ;  though  the  defect  is 
amply  compensated  by  the  heakhiness  of  their  complexions, 
and  the  native  glow  of  their  cheeks.  But  a  young  lady  in 
Mrs.  N.'s  boarding-school,  if  she  found  herself  as  gross  as 
the  most  fashionable  Liverpool  belles,  would  be  unhappy 
from  morning  to  night.  Another  circumstance,  which  forci 
bly  strikes  an  American,  is,  the  prodigious  number  of  women 
of  the  lower  order  who  fill  the  streets,  so  that  you  contin 
ually  see  three  women  at  least  to  one  man.  Their  appear 
ance  is  the  most  direful  you  can  imagine.  They  perform 
labor  of  the  heaviest  and  dirtiest  kind,  such  as  would  soon 
kill  an  American  woman.  But,  my  dearest  sisters,  I  must 
finish  this  letter,  for  it  is  time  to  set  off  for  Manchester,  on 
my  way  to  London.  Mr.  Williams  writes  that  he  is  expect 
ing  me,  and  has  prepared  rooms  for  my  use  in  his  house, 
No.  13,  Finsbury  Square.  I  shall  spend  to-morrow  and 
next  day  in  Manchester,  and  reach  London,  I  hope,  before 
the  19th,  as  I  must  appear  at  the  Alien  Office  by  that  day. 

"  When  I  am  a  little  more  collected,  I  hope  I  shall  write 
to  you  a  better  and  longer  letter.  God  blesp  you,  my  dear 
sisters,  and  train  you  up  for  both  worlds.  Write  me  very 
particularly  and  unreservedly  about  papa's  health. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother." 

To  Mrs.  Lyman  :  — 

"  Manchester,  June  14,  180G. 

u  MY  DEAR  MADAM,  —  I  cannot  let  the  first  impressions, 
which  I  received  upon  visiting  this  delightful  country,  wear 


LETTERS  FROM  EUROPE.  263 

away  without  communicating  them  to  you,  who  feel  an  in 
terest  in  the  improvement  and  ornamental  cultivation  of  the 
soil  of  New  England.  In  driving  from  Liverpool  to  Man 
chester, —  where  I  shall  remain  as  little  time  as  possible,  for 
Manchester  is  the  region  of  volcanoes,  and  as  smoky  as  the 
work-shop  of  Vulcan,  —  I  was  exclaiming,  at  every  rod  of 
ground  I  passed  over,  What  an  exquisite  country !  what  de 
lightful  openings !  what  rich  fields !  what  tasteful  clumps ! 
what  velvet  lawns !  what  luxuriant  vegetation !  And  yet 
this  is  the  least  ornamented  part  of  England. 

'•'-July  Ilth.  Thus  far  I  wrote  in  Manchester,  not  sus 
pecting  that  I  should  not  take  up  my  pen  again  till  I  reached 
London.  And  now,  in  the  smoke  and  dust  of  this  astonishing 
city,  I  bid  adieu  (I  cannot  say  a  reluctant  adieu)  to  the 
most  charming  country  on  the  face  of  the  earth ;  for  I  must 
yet  acknowledge,  although  with  some  shame,  that  the  liter 
ary  luxury  of  the  city  has  more  charms  for  me  than  even 
the  park  at  Blenheim,  adorned  as  it  is  with  the  oaks  of  the 
last  century,  and  enlivened  with  the  gambols  of  fifteen  hun 
dred  deer.  « 

"  I  stop  to  tell  you  that  I  have  just  received  letters  from 
Boston.  I  thank  you  all  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart ;  but 
they  have  spoiled  this  day's  sport ;  I  shall  see  nothing  in 
London  to-day  with  any  pleasure.  Home,  home  will  fill 
my  heart.  Tell  Mr.  Lyman  that  he  need  be  under  no  ap 
prehension  about  my  reading,  for  in  truth  I  find  not  a 
moment  even  to  write  a  line  of  a  journal,  which  I  proposed 
to  keep,  and  hardly  to  repay  the  kindness  of  the  friends 
who  have  written  to  me.  Mr.  Thacher  has  arrived,  in  fine 
health.  I  cannot  express  to  you  the  addition  which  his 
presence  makes  to  the  obligation  under  which  I  am  laid 
to  my  friends  in  Boston. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  amused  with  hearing  of  some  of 
my  excursions.  Well,  then  :  last  Tuesday,  I  went  out  with 
Mr.  William  Vaughan  to  dine  at  Sir  Joseph  Banks's,  who,  you 


2G4 


VISIT    TO    SIR    JOSEPH    BANKS. 


know,  has  a  great  reputation  all  over  the  world  for  his 
science  and  literary  courtesy.  Upon  our  arrival,  we  were 
introduced  into  the  garden,  which  serves  for  a  drawing-room 
in  the  summer.  The  first  object  that  presented  itself  was 
a  tall  woman,  dressed  in  men's  clothes.  This  proved  to  be 
Lady  Banks's  sister.  You  will  hardly  credit  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  she  wore  a  man's  hat,  with  a  black  plume,  a  cravat, 
a  shirt  with  a  wide  frill,  a  short  huntsman's  coat,  wristbands 
and  sleeve-buttons  visible,  with  no  mark  of  her  sex  but  a 
short  petticoat ;  and  this,  I  am  told,  is  a  fashionable  riding 
dress !  After  waiting  a  little  time,  appeared  Sir  Joseph, 
who  has  such  an  inveterate  gout,  that  he  moves  with  his 
legs  far  apart,  at  the  rate  of  about  ten  feet  in  ten  minutes. 
Last  of  all  entered  my  lady,  who  is  truly  a  moving  moun 
tain  of  flesh  and  blood  ;  and  if  ever  Sir  John  Falstaff  had 
been  allowed  by  Shakspeare  to  have  taken  a  wife,  this 
would  have  been  the  cara  sposa  for  him.  There  were 
several  other  gentlemen  at  dinner.  It  is  not  etiquette  for 
the  hostess  to  pay  much  attention  to  her  company,  and  I, 
who  sat  next  to  her,  was  abundantly  employed  in  helping 

her 

"  The  gentlemen  do  not  hand  the  ladies  to  the  table. 
They  sit  a  reasonable  time  after  the  cloth  is  removed,  and 
presently  we  are  summoned  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
coffee  is  provided,  of  which  it  is  the  fashion  to  take  one  cup  ; 
tea  is  handed  afterwards.  But  to  return  to  Lady  Banks  : 
her  favorite  passion  is  to  collect  china;  and  she  has  indeed 
collected  a  superb  variety  of  dishes,  jars,  pots,  cups,  sau 
cers,  bowls,  ornaments,  of  all  ages,  colors,  sizes,  brilliancy, 
value,  and  brittleness.  A  more  capricious  toy-shop  I  never 
beheld,  though  I  was  obliged  to  keep  a  very  grave  face  of 
wonder  and  admiration,  while  she  dissertated  learnedly  upon 
the  separate  pieces,  and  looked  at  them  for  the  thousandth 
time,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  with  which  a  painter  would 
gaze  at  the  Transfiguration.  Sir  Joseph  has  written  a  large 


RESIDENCE    IN    LONDON.  265 

book  upon  the  subject  of  his  lady's  china,  containing  disser 
tations  upon  the  antiquity  of  certain  pieces  connected  with 
the  different  epochs  of  china  history.  This  book  is  intro 
duced  with  a  dedication  to  Lady  Banks,  and  loaded  with 
the  most  fulsome  address  to  the  royal  family,  who  once 
honored  my  lady's  china-room  with  a  visit.  Sir  Joseph 
cultivates  the  American  cranberry  with  great  success,  and 
his  ponds  are  filled  with  our  water-lilies. 

"  I  need  not  say  that  I  have  every  comfort  at  your 
brother's.  I  am  trying  to  persuade  Francis  to  accompany 
me  to  the  continent 

"  But  I  must  cease  writing,  or  you  will  cease  reading. 
Farewell !  May  God  with  his  choicest  blessings  have  you 
and  your  family  in  his  holy  keeping  ! 

"  Your  dear  friend, 

14  J.  S.  B." 

To  his  father  :  - 

"  London,  June  23d,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  rejoice  to  inform  you  that  I  arrived 
safely  the  day  before  yesterday  ;  that  I  am  agreeably  ac- 
comodated  at  Mr.  Williams's,  in  Finsbury  Square ;  and  al 
though  this  is  in  the  city,  as  it  is  called,  and  very  remote 
from  that  part  of  the  town  to  which  most  of  my  letters  are 
directed,  yet  I  much  prefer  the  conveniences  of  this  resi 
dence  to  more  fashionable  lodgings  at  the  west  end. 

"The  expenses  of  travelling  in  this  country  are  enor 
mous.  ^ 

"  This  is  intolerable  to  an  American,  but  it  is  not  to  be 
avoided.  In  this  country,  you  must  either  pay  money  liber 
ally,  or  you  will  be  paid  liberally  in  abuse. 

14  Most  of  the  persons  to  whom  I  have  been  introduced 
in  England  are  Dissenters,  and,  of  course,  Foxites  in  their 
politics.  Many  of  the  most  violent  of  them,  however,  be 
gin  to  be  uneasy  at  the  tardiness  with  which  Mr.  Fox  pro 
ceeds  in  those  measures  of  reform  to  which  he  has  always 
professed  himself  a  friend. 
23 


266  OCCUPATION    IN    LONDON. 

"  I  attended  meeting  yesterday  at  the  old  Jewry,  for 
merly  a  very  celebrated  place  of  worship  among  the  Dissent 
ers,  now  very  thinly  attended.  The  forms  of  service  re 
minded  me  more  of  New  England  than  any  thing  I  have 
yet  seen  in  England.  A  chorister,  who  sat  below  the  pul 
pit,  always  set  the  tune  ;  and,  so  natural  is  it  for  an  English 
man  to  be  a  singer,  that,  really,  I  do  not  think  there  were 
twenty  in  the  congregation  who  did  not  join.  The  preacher 
was  Dr.  Rees,  a  good,  substantial  old  gentleman,  with  a  dis 
course  an  hour  long. 

"  I  have  had  some  doubts  about  the  propriety  of  visiting 
the  places  of  public  amusement,  but  I  have  come  at  last 
to  the  conclusion,  that,  in  a  place  where  my  example  can 
not  be  of  evil  influence,  and  where  it  is  no  uncommon 
thing  for  clergymen  to  be  seen,  that  I  should  reproach 
myself  if  I  were  to  leave  England  without  having  observed 
what  constitutes  so  great  a  part  of  the  national  character. 

"  I  should  be  happier  if  I  had  left  no  friends  at  home, 
but  the  recollection  of  their  kindness  and  my  own  happiness 
with  them,  whenever  it  returns,  causes  me  to  feel  more  like 
an  exile  than  a  traveller.  I  could  never,  I  am  persuaded, 
have  left  my  parish  from  any  motive  of  curiosity  or  per 
sonal  gratification.  My  health,  my  health  alone,  which  is 
to  you  and  me  the  most  interesting  subject,  is  in  no  worse 
a  state  than  when  I  left  Boston.  I  hope  in  a  few  weeks 
more  I  shall  be  able  to  speak  with  some  confidence.  Hither 
to  God  has  kept  my  feet  from  falling  and  my  soul  from 
death.  I  have  resisted  all  applications  to  preach.  I  wish 
to  feel  more  settled,  and  more  acquainted  with  the  preachers 
and  the  auditories  of  this  country,  before  I  show  myself 
in  the  pulpit. 

"  July  8th.  Since  I  wrote  the  above,  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  dining  with  Mr.  Wilberforce,  or  ralher  of  sitting 
at  his  table  while  he  was  dining  ;  for,  as  I  was  previously  en 
gaged,  I  was  unwilling  to  spoil  my  dinner.  lie  is  very 


MR.    WILBERFORCE.  267 

much  interested  in  the  religious  condition  of  the  United 
States,  and  extremely  inquisitive  as  to  the  attention  paid  to 
religious  observances.  I  wish  I  could  have  given  him  a 
more  favorable  account  of  the  practical  religion  of  my 
dear  native  land,  and  have  been  able  to  say  with  confi 
dence  that  our  personal  holiness  was  greater  than  in  the 
days  of  yore.  God  grant  that  I  may  never  live  to  see  New 
England  sunk  in  such  religious  indifference  and  public  con 
tempt  for  Christianity  as  prevails,  I  fear,  in  the  parent 
country. 

"  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  E.  for  her  kind  letter  from 
Boston  ;  tell  her  that  I  sincerely  hope  the  kindness  she  re 
ceives  there  is  paid  as  much  to  her  intrinsic  worth,  as  to 
my  memory ;  but  I  am  willing  that  some  of  it  should  be 
shown  to  her  on  my  account,  because  it  will  tend  to  keep 
alive  in  her  mind  a  more  tender  recollection  of  her  broth 
er.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  many  young  ladies 
here,  the  daughters  of  clergymen  and  laymen ;  but  I  have 
seen  none  who  have  not  taught  me  to  love  and  esteem 
my  sisters  more  than  ever.  I  have  seen  a  daughter  of 
G.  Wakcfield,  who  knows  more  Greek  and  Latin  than  any 
woman  in  England,  and  is  now  about  to  be  married ;  Lucy 
Aiken,  daughter  of  Dr.  Aiken,  a  young  lady  of  remarkable 
talents  and  accomplishments ;  and  many  others,  some  of 
whom  are  connoisseurs  in  painting,  and  some  in  music. 
My  next  letter  to  my  sisters  may  be  from  the  midst  of  the 
luxury  of  Paris  or  the  simplicity  of  Switzerland.  Love  to 
all  the  little  ones.  What  can  I  procure  for  them  here  which 
may  be  a  pleasure  or  a  profit,  and  remind  them  of  their 
dear  brother  ? 

"  I  am  just  informed  that  no  captain  will  venture  to  take 
us  over  to  Rotterdam,  and  therefore  we  must  take  passage 
in  a  vile  Dutch  vessel  for  Harlingen,  because  the  French 
officers  there  will  let  us  pass  for  a  small  fee.  This  Dutch 
hoy  is  built  much  like  a  butter-boat,  and  called  the  Two 


268  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Sisters.  My  present  plan  is  to  proceed  to  Switzerland 
so  as  to  travel  on  foot  through  that  mountain  region  before 
September,  when  it  will  be  too  cold.  From  Geneva  we 
propose  to  cross  the  country  to  Schaffhausen,  and  thus  to 
come  down  the  Rhine.  However,  1  may  be  obliged  to 
deviate  from  this  route  by  a  thousand  unforeseen  circum 
stances. 

"  The  inclosed  letter  to  my  sisters  is  written  chiefly 
for  their  entertainment.  O,  that  they  may  reap  half  the 
delight  from  it  that  I  have  from  reading  the  letters  I  have 
this  morning  received  from  my  friends  in  America,  among 
whom,  you  at  Portsmouth  are  the  dearest,  therefore  let  your 
letters  be  the  longest.  '  As  cool  waters,'  etc.  Do  not  be 
too  much  grieved,  my  dear  friends,  to  hear  that  I  have  had 
an  ill  turn  in  London  ;  it  was  slight,  very  slight,  and  after 
a  long  interval.  I  have  hopes,  great  hopes.  The  hand  of 
Providence  seems  to  have  arranged  with  wonderful  favor 
all  the  past  circumstances  of  my  voyage,  and  of  my  situa 
tion  here,  and  the  measure  of  God's  favor  is  filled  by  the 
arrival  of  my  friend  Thacher  this  morning.  My  last  words 
are,  write,  write,  quocunque  modo,  write. 

"  Your  dear  son, 

«J.  S.  B." 

"  Rotterdam,  Aug.  llth,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  SISTERS,  —  Here  I  am  at  last,  with  leisure 
enough  to  sit  down  and  give  you  a  very  few  notices  of  my 
tour  to  this  place.  There  is  nothing  in  this  city  but  mer 
chants,  and  boats,  and  canals  ;  and  after  having  seen  one 
city  in  Holland,  you  have  seen  all.  The  streets,  even  in 
these  most  thronged  quarters,  are  washed  and  scrubbed 
every  day,  so  that  you  might  without  much  inconvenience 
absolutely  dine  off  the  pavement. 

"  The  houses  are  all  joined  to  one  another,  and  all  is 
neatness,  ornament,  stillness,  and  singularity.  But  though 


PASSAGE    TO    HOLLAND.  269 

I  am  now  so  comfortably  seated  at  a  writing-table,  in  an  inn 
called  the  Marshal  Turenne,  the  hardships  and  vexations, 
the  inconvenience  and  imposition,  which  I  have  passed 
through  since  I  left  London,  as  much  exceed  all  that  I  have 
have  ever  suffered  before,  as  the  accommodations  of  a  well- 
regulated  family  exceed  the  irregularity  of  a  dirty  Dutch 
hot/.  After  passing  through  all  the  vexatious  delays  of  the 
alien  office  in  London,  in  order  to  obtain  passports  for  leav 
ing  the  kingdom,  as  there  is  no  regular  mode  of  communica 
tion  with  the  continent,  I  engaged  with  a  Dutch  captain  to 
take  four  of  us  over  to  Harlingen,  for  which  we  paid  him 
ten  guineas  apiece  ;  and  after  going  on  board,  we  had  each 
to  pay  two  guineas  more,  in  order  to  persuade  him  to  drop 
down  the  river  Thames  to  Chatham  that  night,  so  that  we 
might  be  able  to  sail  in  the  morning.  When  we  reached 
the  vessel,  we  found  five  passengers  besides  ourselves,  with 
not  the  shadow  of  accommodation  for  sleeping,  except  two 
dirty  narrow  births  already  occupied  by  a  gentleman  and 
his  wife.  Accordingly,  we  took  our  lodgings  in  the  hold, 
where  not  one  of  us  could  stand  upright ;  and  after  three 
days  and  nights  of  sea-sickness,  during  which  time  none 
of  us  had  our  clothes  off,  we  reached  Harlingen.  If  you 
will  look  upon  the  map,  you  will  see  that,  in  order  to  reach 
Amsterdam  from  thence,  we  have  to  cross  a  large  sea,  called 
Zuyder  Zee  ;  so,  after  a  night's  rest,  we  took  places  at  four 
o'clock  the  next  morning  in  the  daily  packet  for  Amster 
dam.  The  usual  length  of  a  passage  is  twelve  hours,  but 
after  creeping  along  the  whole  day  till  dark,  we  found  that 
we  had  not  accomplished  half  our  voyage,  but  that  we  must 
remain  all  night  on  board  this  little  vessel,  crowded  with 
more  than  fifty  passengers,  not  a  word  of  whose  rough 
guttural  gibberish  could  we  understand. 

"  Here,  after  all  our  hardships,  I  found,  that,  in  order  to 
shelter  ourselves  from  the  rain,  we  must  retreat  to  the  hold 
of  the  vessel,  in  which  they  usually  carry  cows.     Indeed,  it 
23* 


270  HOLLAND. 

was  a  stable.  There  we  sat  upon  our  trunks  all  night,  with 
aching  bones,  fatigued  enough  to  drop  to  sleep  every  mo 
ment,  but  in  such  inconvenient  postures,  that  we  could  not 
indulge  ourselves  in  forgetfulness.  The  only  person  with 
whom  I  could  hold  any  conversation  was  the  pastor  of  a 
Protestant  church  at  Leeuwarden.  He  was  passing,  like  our 
selves,  to  Amsterdam,  and,  hearing  from  Mr.  Williams,  who 
spoke  French,  that  I  was  an  American  clergyman,  he  imme 
diately  began  a  conversation  in  Latin,  which  I  supported  with 
some  difficulty,  in  consequence  of  the  mode  of  pronouncing 
Latin  which  is  universal  on  the  continent.  He  appeared  to 
be  a  most  worthy  man,  but  with  the  most  preposterous  no 
tions  about  our  country.  I  really  regretted  that  we  were 
obliged  to  part  so  soon.  [After  all,  they  could  not  reach 
Amsterdam,  and  were  obliged  to  walk  six  or  seven  miles.] 

"  I  could  fill  quires  of  paper  with  descriptions  of  the 
singular  manners  and  costumes  of  the  Dutch,  especially 
those  of  North  Holland,  but  I  will  only  tell  you  a  little  of 
the  dresses  of  the  women.  Imagine  a  short  woman,  with  a 
baby  face,  covered  with  the  whole  breadth  of  one  of  those 
straw  hats  which  you  used  to  buy  to  make  bonnets,  with 
two  flat  gold  plates  over  the  ears,  to  which  are  suspended 
a  half-pound  weight  of  gold  or  silver  ear-rings,  which  have 
descended  in  the  family  through  many  generations.  On  her 
head  she  wears  a  neat,  close  cap,  with  a  long  streamer  on 
each  side,  descending  over  the  shoulders.  Then  comes  a 
chintz  gown,  with  a  long  waist  down  to  the  hips,  arid  fol 
lowed  by  at  least  a  dozen  thick  petticoats,  in  the  rnidst  of 
summer.  Their  faces  are  as  uninteresting  as  the  Chinese, 
and  their  mode  of  dress  (either  of  male  or  female)  has 
not  altered  for  two  hundred  years.  As  to  the  men,  so  outre 
is  their  appearance,  that  1  can  only  say  they  were  made  for 
the  women.  Our  good  old  Deacon  Penhallow  would  be 
thought  quite  a  beau  compared  with  any  Dutchman  whom  I 
have  yet  seen.  The  men  smoke  from  morning  to  night. 


HOLLAND.  271 

Their  good  qualities  are  neatness  and  punctuality.  Indeed, 
so  punctual  are  they  in  travelling,  that  they  reckon  by  hours 
instead  of  miles. 

"  The  dead  level  of  Holland  is  a  garden  throughout,  and, 
in  passing  the  numerous  country  houses  which  border  their 
canals,  I  was  continually  reminded  of  some  tree  or  shrub 
which  I  had  seen  blooming  in  the  garden  at  Waltham.  We 
have  just  concluded  to  go  to  Switzerland,  by  the  passage  up 
the  Rhine  to  Basle,  thence  to  Geneva,  and  so  back  to  Paris ; 
so  that  we  shall  not  see  the  great  city  before  the  latter  part 
of  September,  when  half  the  population  of  England  will 
probably  have  rushed  to  Paris  to  be  present  at  the  grand 
fete  which  Napoleon  is  preparing.  I  need  not  tell  you  that 
Lord  Lauderdale  is  received  with  great  joy,  and  that  peace 
is  expected  to  be  signed  in  a  few  days.  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  sisters,  and  make  you  worthy  of  his  love  and  of  the 
love  of  all  the  good  and  wise.  Write  to  me  very  particu 
larly  about  papa's  health.  Your  dear  brother, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

As  his  account  of  the  difficulties  of  travelling  upon  the 
continent  possesses,  when  contrasted  with  the  facilities 
that  have  since  been  enjoyed,  a  sort  of  historical  in 
terest,  the  extracts  from  letters  of  that  period  are  more 
copious.  It  is  curious  to  remark  the  embarrassments 
that  have  been  offered  to  travelling  during  the  past  year 
of  revolutions,  and  the  progress  of  public  sentiment, 
which  seems  to  produce  the  same  difficulties  that  were 
caused  by  despotism  fifty  years  ago. 

After  having  been  turned  out  of  the  inn  at  Coblentz, 
in  order  to  accommodate  Louis,  King  of  Holland,  and 
being  detained  there  a  day,  because  the  king  took  pos 
session  of  all  the  post-horses,  they  were  still  more  vexed 
at  an  embargo  in  Strasburg,  till  they  could  send  to  Paris 
for  permission  to  proceed  on  their  journey. 


272  STRASBURG. 

"  Strasburg,  August  30,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
write  you  a  line,  though  I  am  sadly  vexed  at  the  cause  of 
my  present  leisure.  We  had  travelled  up  the  Rhine  as 
far  as  Mayence,  on  our  way  to  Switzerland  with  the  pass 
ports  which  we  took  of  the  American  Consul  at  Amster 
dam,  endorsed  by  the  French  Commissary  in  that  city. 
These,  we  were  assured,  would  carry  us  through  the  whole 
of  that  part  of  our  route  which  might  lie  through  French 
territory.  At  Mentz,  however,  upon  going  before  the  Secre 
tary  of  Police,  we  learned,  to  our  inexpressible  surprise  and 
mortification,  that  we  could  not  proceed  further  than  Stras 
burg  without  passports  from  Paris.  So  the  police  officer 
took  our  American  passports  to  send  them  on  to  the  capital, 
there  to  learn  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  travel  in  France. 
In  the  mean  time,  he  required  us  to  take  a  passeporte  pro- 
visoire  of  him,  to  carry  us  to  Strasburg ;  and  informed  us 
that  we  should  be  detained  there  ten  days,  or  till  our  per 
mits  should  arrive  from  Paris.  Here,  therefore,  we  are,  in 
a  city  where  not  an  individual  is  known  to  us,  and  where 
nothing  is  spoken  but  German  or  French.  If  our  pass 
ports  should  not  be  sent  back  to  us,  we  must  return  to  Hol 
land  as  we  came.  I  have  not  much  apprehension  on  this 
score  ;  the  greatest  inconvenience  is,  that  we  are  losing  time 
and  money,  and  that  the  rest  of  our  tour  must  be  very  much 
hurried. 

u  We  have  hitherto  seen  nothing  but  extremes ;  the  most 
enchanting  scenery  that  poet  ever  fancied,  or  painter  ever 
drew,  and  the  most  wretched  cities  and  villages  which 
poverty,  filth,  superstition,  and  vice,  and  the  residence  of 
soldiery,  can  make.  I  keep  a  little  journal,  which  may 
perhaps  at  some  future  time  be  interesting  to  myself,  but 
cannot  be  very  much  so  to  any  one  else.  The  only  Prot 
estant  church  which  I  have  seen  since  leaving  Holland,  is 
in  this  city,  and  this  is  Lutheran.  I  have  been  fairly  home- 


STRASBURG.  273 

sick  during  this  tour,  and  I  believe  nothing  has  contributed 
to  it  more  than  the  miserable  dearth  of  religious  instruc 
tion,  and  I  fear,  too.  of  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  However, 
though  I  have  been  a  little  home-sick,  yet,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  my  health  has  been  otherwise  uninterrupted  since  I 
left  England. 

An  extract  from  the  journal  of  the  detention  of  the 
travellers  at  Strasburg  is  inserted.  It  is  a  fair  specimen 
of  the  whole  journal. 

"  Straslurg,  August  28th.  Of  this  city  I  had  formed 
agreeable  expectations,  —  whether  from  the  appearance  of 
the  country  which  preceded  it,  or  from  some  pleasant  clas 
sical  associations,  I  know  not.  The  Argentorum  of  the 
Romans  has  been  long  familiar  to  my  imagination  from 
the  circumstance  of  the  Typographical  Society  of  Deux- 
ponts  removing  here  at  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution, 
from  which  time  the  title-pages  of  their  edition  of  the  clas 
sics  have  borne  the  name  of  Argentoratum.  The  lofty 
spire  of  the  cathedral  we  distinctly  saw  at  the  distance 
of  eight  miles,  and  it  was  occasionally  visible  through  the 
whole  of  the  last  two  posts  ! 

"  It  was  Sunday,  about  three  o'clock,  when  we  entered  the 
gate  of  the  city,  where  we  left  our  passeports  provisoires. 
After  dinner,  we  visited  the  interior  of  the  cathedral,  which 
can  hardly  be  said  to  be  worthy  of  the  exquisite  richness 
and  beauty  of  the  tower;  indeed,  how  was  it  possible? 
The  church  was  full  of  confessionals,  and  the  confessionals 
appeared  to  be  well  filled.  The  pillars  which  support  the 
nave  are  hung  with  Gobeline  tapestry ,wrought  from  designs 
which  picture  the  imaginary  life  of  the  Virgin,  ending  with 
her  assumption.  The  altar  and  choir  appear  to  be  modern, 
and  entirely  unworthy  the  rest  of  the  building. 

"  Every  thing  that  we  saw  in  Strasburg  told  us  that  it  was 


274  FRENCH    THEATRE. 

rather  French  than  German ;  and  the  hustle,  the  life  and 
gayety  of  the  place,  without  much  real  business,  are  truly 
characteristic  of  French  cities.  We  undertook  to  walk  round 
the  ramparts,  but  were  arrested  in  the  midst  of  our  prome 
nade  by  the  rough  command  of  an  officer,  who  called  out, 
'  Descendez,  Messieurs  !  '  The  barracks,  which  are  prodig 
iously  extensive  buildings,  appeared  to  be  full  of  soldiers,  and 
not  a  few  of  those  who  saw  the  day  of  Austerlitz  are  here, 
resting  from  their  labors  and  their  wounds.  The  number  of 
wounded  soldiers  that  we  see  everywhere  tells  the  story 
of  the  last  few  years. 

"  The  evening  of  Monday  we  passed  at  the  Theatre  Fran- 
£ais  and  Allemande.  The  proportion,  however,  which  the 
performances  in  French  bear  to  those  in  German,  is,  I  sus 
pect,  five  or  six  to  one.  I  could  understand  but  very  little 
of  the  comedy,  but  I  am  satisfied  that  the  French  theatre 
may  be  much  superior  to  the  English.  They  have  not  so 
good  plays,  but  I  am  assured  they  have  better  actors.  There 
is  a  quickness  of  perception,  a  delicacy,  united  with  a  cer 
tain  rapidity  of  feeling,  and  a  continual  sense  of  propriety 
in  the  management  of  scenes,  which  the  English  are  either 
too  slow  or  too  wise  to  possess.  The  mutes  on  the  French 
stage  appear  to  be  interested  in  what  is  going  forward,  and 
never  stand  in  that  awkward  or  listless  manner  which  you 
observe  in  England  and  with  us.  Add  to  this,  the  French 
articulation  is  more  distinct,  their  pronunciation  perfect, 
and  their  voices  upon  a  higher  key  than  the  English. 
These  observations  are  the  hasty  result  of  two  nights'  ex 
perience,  and  from  one  who  knows  very  little  of  the  lan 
guage.  Perhaps  a  half  hour  at  the  Paris  theatre  will  upset 
all  my  conclusions,  and  leave  only  these  facts,  which  I  be 
lieve  are  acknowledged  on  all  hands,  that  the  costume  of 
the  French  stage  is  most  carefully  preserved  and  their 
declamation  unrivalled. 

"  Tuesday,  5  P.  M.     The  day  and  the  hour  when  I  as- 


CATHEDRAL  AT  STRASEUKG.  275 

cended  the  tower  of  the  cathedral  of  Strasburg  can  never 
be  forgotten ;  but  as  to  describing  the  effect  of  such  an 
elevation  and  the  unrivalled  prospect,  it  is  wholly  out  of  the 
reach  of  my  pen.  All_that  I  had__before ;  seen  and _read  of 
Gothic  architecture  had  given  me  no  idea  of  the  richness, 
the  grace,  the  variety,  and  the  extreme  lightness,  which  are 
all  combined  in  this  wonderful  structure.  It  is  the  glory  of 
Strasburg,  the  admiration  of  travellers,  and  sacred  to  the 
piety,  almost  an  honor  to  the  superstition,  which  erected  it. 
[Here  follows  a  description  which  is  omitted.] 

"  The  great  beauty  of  this  steeple  consists,  first,  in  its 
lightness.  As  it  is  built  of  a  very  hard  stone,  which  is  now 
the  color  of  rusty  iron,  the  stone-work  is  extremely  slender, 
and  cut  with  exquisite  delicacy,  and  strengthened  with  bars 
of  iron.  Secondly,  in  its  complete  preservation.  Nothing 
is  wanting  of  its  original  material  except  here  and  there  the 
corner  of  an  ornament  or  some  unessential,  minute  stone. 
Thirdly,  in  the  exquisite  variety  of  its  Gothic  decorations, 
windows,  and  side  turrets,  round  which  the  stone  stairs  wind 
in  a  graceful  spiral,  and  are  made  to  contribute  essentially 
to  the  beauty  of  the  structure.  Fourthly,  in  its  wonderful 
elevation.  When  you  have  reached  the  top,  you  havesome 
leisure  to  think  how  such  exquisitely  wrought  masses  of 
stone,  held  together  with  belts  and  clamps  of  iron,  could 
have  been  raised  to  such  a  height,  and  how  men  could  have 
worked  there  without  giddiness." 

The  journal  contains,  on  the  next  page,  a  parallel  be 
tween  French  and  English  character,  drawn  from  his 
detention  ten  days  in  a  French  German  city. 

"It  is  impossible  to  spend  six  days  in  any  French  city 
without  discovering  something  of  the  difference  of  national 
character  between  them  and  their  neighbours  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Channel.  We  have  so  often  heard  of  the  char- 


276  FRENCH  AND  ENGLISH  CHARACTER. 

acteristic  liveliness  of  the  French,  that  no  traveller,  upon 
entering  their  country,  is  surprised  to  hear  them  continually 
talking,  and  that,  too,  with  the  greatest  earnestness,  accom 
panied  with  perpetual  gestures.  But  he  may  be  surprised 
to  find  that  all  this  noise  and  earnestness  is,  in  general, 
about  the  veriest  trifles,  or  the  most  familiar  and  common 
topics.  The  course  of  a  Frenchman's  day  is  totally  unlike 
ours.  IS agre?nent  is  his  motto.  He  rises  rather  late,  and 
takes  his  coffee,  perhaps  a  single  cup,  and,  at  eleven,  he  has 
his  dejeune  of  a  chicken  and  a  bottle  of  vin  ordinaire.  An 
Englishman,  on  the  contrary,  eats  a  large  breakfast,  and  is 
busy  till  six,  and  then  his  dinner  fills  up  the  remainder  of 
the  hours.  A  Frenchman  wears  his  morning  gown  through 
the  whole  day  ;  an  Englishman  esteems  it  a  matter  of  con 
science  to  be  neatly  and  politely  dressed  before  the  hour  of 
dinner.  A  Frenchman  will  hardly  fail  of  being  at  the  spec 
tacle  every  night  of  the  week ;  this  habit  is  as  regular  as 
his  meals.  An  Englishmen  will  scarcely  exceed  ten  or 
twelve  nights  in  a  season.  Their  food  is  also  as  different 
as  their  dispositions.  An  English  dinner  for  two  or  three 
persons  would  be  a  moderate  joint  of  meat  and  some  little 
second  course  ;  a  Frenchman  could  not  sit  down  to  less  than 
a  dozen  dishes  of  flesh,  fish,  and  fowl.  His  pottage  is  in 
variably  the  first;  then  an  ounce  or  two  of  beef,  completely 
boiled  to  rags.  Then  he  breaks  his  bread,  and  begins  upon 
his  bottle  of  wine  ;  then  comes  fish,  after  that  some  absurd 
mixture  of  gizzards,  etc. ;  then  a  chicken,  duck,  or  some 
odd  wild  fowl,  a  trifle,  salad,  dessert,  etc.  Yet,  with  all 
this  rich  and  endless  variety,  they  are  neither  gluttons  nor 
epicures.  They  are  never  anticipating  nor  discussing  their 
meals ;  nor  do  they,  like  the  English,  sit  long  at  table  to  drink 
wine.  When  their  little  bottle  of  French  wine  is  exhausted, 
their  potations  are  finished.  A  Frenchman  eats  what  is  set 
before  him,  often  what  an  Englishman  would  send  from  the 
table  ;  though  more  simple,  he  is  more  fastidious  in  his  food. 


FOREIGN    MANNERS.  277 

"  The  manners  of  the  French,  in  public  and  in  private, 
in  social  intercourse,  are  all  marked  with  delicacy.  Vice, 
in  the  words  of  Mr.  Burke,  loses  half  its  evil  not  only  among 
the  great,  but  among  the  common  people,  by  losing  all  its 
grossness.  This  remark  is  not  only  applicable  to  the  court 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  the  unfortunate,  but  to  the  public  man 
ners  of  the  French  themselves.  Everything  in  the  theatre 
and  the  street  wears  the  exterior  of  good  manners  and 
civility.  A  French  audience  is  never  impatient,  never 
boisterous.  Their  applauses  are  short ;  their  hisses  very 
rare.  One  night,  at  Strasburg,  the  play  broke  off  very 
abruptly,  and  we  were  disappointed  of  a  great  part  of  the 
spectacle.  We  were  amused,  however,  to  see  how  quietly 
the  audience  took  it,  when,  in  England,  the  whole  house 
would  have  been  in  an  uproar,  and  John  Bull  would  have 
raved  with  all  the  privileges  of  an  Englishman." 

These  remarks  were  made  more  than  forty  years  ago, 
and  when  the  writer  had  seen  of  French  cities  only 
Strasburg.  Another  extract  from  this  journal  shows, 
that  the  custom  of  calling  upon  authors  and  celebrated 
persons  had  not  then  become  so  common  as  to  be  re 
garded  with  approbation. 

"  Professor  Schweighauser,  whose  Athenseus  makes  one 
of  the  Strasburg  edition  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Classics,  is 
a  native  and  an  inhabitant  of  this  city,  and  is  now  an  old 
man.  A  bookseller  politely  offered  to  carry  me  to  see  him, 
upon  the  pretence  that  he  would  be  glad  to  see  an  American 
who  was  acquainted  with  his  edition  of  Athenseus ;  but 
upon  what  pretence  could  I  call  upon  him  ?  And  how 
could  I  presume  to  insult  him  with  my  imperfect  Latin  and 
still  worse  French,  the  only  languages  in  which  I  could 
make  him  understand  that  I  had  no  right  to  call  upon  him  ? 
24 


218  STRASBURG. 

So,  then,  I  shall  leave   Strasburg  without  seeing  Professor 
Schweighauser ! " 

After  waiting  in  Strasburg  about  twelve  days,  they  re 
ceived  their  passports,  but  their  troubles  were  not  yet 
at  an  end. 

"  At  the  first  post-house  beyond  Strasburg,  we  were  ac 
costed  by  four  gens  d'armes,  who  demanded  our  passports. 
They  were  in  English,  according  to  an  improvident  custom 
of  the  American  Consul  at  Paris.  The  first  officer,  upon 
looking  at  them,  cried  out  '  Ma  foi,  je  rfentends  pas  le  Lat 
in.''  Another,  taking  them  out  of  his  hand,  declared  they  were 
k  Hollandoise."1  However,  upon  seeing  the  Paris  vise  and 
the  signature  of  Fouche,  they  returned  them.  Just  as  we 
were  going  off,  they  came  back  with  a  paper,  which  con 
tained  a  list  of  names  for  which  they  were  commissioned 
to  inquire,  by  stopping  all  travellers  on  that  route.  They 
began  to  question  us  with  much  severity,  —  to  inquire  our 
names,  our  quality,  our  business,  our  route,  etc.  We  be 
gan  to  be  much  alarmed,  especially  upon  my  overhearing 
one  of  them  say,  '  Ce  sont  ires  suspects.''  After  searching  us 
and  our  baggage,  we  were  permitted  to  proceed.  They 
had  found  nothing  like  our  names  in  the  list  of  the  sus 
pected,  and  nothing  suspicious  in  our  baggage." 

After  an  agreeable  tour  in  Switzerland,  the  travellers 
reached  Paris  in  October,  and  took  rooms  in  the  Rue 
Vivienne. 

"  Paris,  November  12th,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  hope  the  letters  that  I  have  ad 
dressed  to  you  from  different  places  on  the  Continent  have 
all  reached  you,  because  they  have  all  contained  some  favor 
able  statement  of  my  health ;  and  I  am  happy  to  add,  that 
I  have  still  abundant  reason  for  believing  that  my  European 


IMPRESSIONS    OF    PARIS.  279 

sejour,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  will  terminate  in  the  per 
fect  establishment  of  my  constitution I  have  found 

nothing  yet  in  Paris  which  will  make  me  leave  it  with  regret. 
Knowing  so  little  as  I  do  of  the  language,  I  have  not  been  able 
to  form  many  French  acquaintances ;  and  the  American 
families  live  in  a  remote  part  of  the  city  from  me.  Ex 
cept  that  I  have  made  some  valuable  and  cheap  purchases 
of  books,  1  consider  my  stay  here  as  time  almost  altogether 
lost.  The  Emperor  is  absent  on  his  triumphant  Prussian 
campaign,  and  I  fear  I  shall  have  no  opportunity  of  seeing 
him. 

"  Last  Sunday,  I  attended  the  Te  Deum  at  the  church  of 
Notre-Dame,  which  was  performed  in  consequence  of  the 
victory  of  Jena.  The  concourse  of  people  was  immense. 
All  the  public  dignitaries  were  present  in  their  robes  of 
state.  The  splendor  of  the  costumes  and  equipages  about 
the  Emperor's  court  far  surpasses  any  other  prince  in  Eu 
rope,  and  is  much  more  magnificent  than  under  the  Bour 
bons.  But  I  must  write  nothing  upon  politics,  since  a  pru 
dent  silence  is  the  order  of  the  day  all  over  this  colossal 
empire.  I  only  wish  I  could  let  my  friends  in  political  life 
in  America  know  how  painful,  how  mortifying,  how  dis 
gusting,  how  low,  how  infamous,  appear  the  animosities  and 
wicked  calumnies,  with  which  our  American  papers  are 
filled.  I  am  called  every  day  to  blush  for  the  state  of 
society  among  us,  and  attempt,  but  in  vain,  to  say  something 
in  our  defence.  There  is  nothing  I  have  more  at  heart 
than  to  impress  upon  the  minds  of  my  countrymen  the 
grievous  injury  which  we  suffer  in  Europe  from  the  com 
plexion  of  our  newspapers,  and  the  brutality  of  our  party 
spirit,  the  infamy  of  our  political  disputes.  Of  what  ad 
vantage  is  our  boasted  freedom,  if  it  is  only  consistent  with 
such  a  state  of  animosity  as  now  exists  in  New  England  ? 
1  am  every  day  called  to  deplore  the  picture  which  we 
present  to  the  eyes  of  Europe.  Every  paper  that  comes 


280  GEN.    LA    FAYETTE. 

from  the  United  States  brings  its  addition  to  the  load  of  our 
disgrace. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  be  out  of  employment  here,  where 
is  collected  almost  everything  that  is  rare,  beautiful,  or 
valuable.  I  have  begun  to  take  a  few  lessons  in  French, 
in  order  to  familiarize  myself  to  the  idiom  and  the  pro 
nunciation,  that  I  may  not  be  an  utter  stranger  in  the  com 
pany  of  Frenchmen. 

"  I  have  spent  the  last  six  days  at  the  country-seat  of  a 
gentleman,  where  I  have  rode  on  horseback  every  day ;  and 
my  sisters  would  have  laughed  to  have  seen  me  in  the  field 
with  five  or  six  other  gentlemen,  followed  by  hounds,  chasing 
a  hare.  There  I  enjoyed  for  two  days  the  company  of 
Gen.  La  Fayette,  whose  name,  you  know,  is  dear  to  Ameri 
ca.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  man  of  more  amiable 
manners,  or  in  whose  conversation  one  could  take  more  de 
light.  He  is  extravagantly  attached  to  everything  Ameri 
can,  and  full  of  interesting  anecdotes  of  the  revolution  in 
our  country  and  in  France.  My  fire  is  out,  and,  as  wood 
is  fifteen  dollars  a  cord  in  France,  I  dare  not  make  any 
more.  O,  may  He  who  has  hitherto  watched  over  me  bring 
about,  in  His  good  providence,  such  a  termination  of  my 
tour  as  to  restore  my  health,  and  bring  me  to  you,  to  my 
sisters,  my  friends,  and  parish,  in  the  course  of  another 
six  months  ! " 

To  Mrs.  Lyrnan  :  — 

"  Paris,  November  12th,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  MADAM,  —  When  I  sit  down  to  write  a  letter 
to  Boston,  the  multitude  of  friends  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
quite  overwhelms  me,  and  I  hardly  know  to  whom  to  direct 
my  lines ;  but  I  feel  more  at  liberty  in  addressing  myself 
to  you  than  to  any  one,  because,  as  I  have  no  reason  to 
expect  a  return  to  my  letters,  I  know  you  will  not  blame 
me  for  want  of  punctuality.  Francis  and  I  have  visited 


FRENCH    LADIES.  281 

together  some  of  the  most  delightful  spots  in  the  old  world. 
You  know  he  has  an  eye  continually  open  to  the  charms 
of  nature,  and  that  his  taste,  has  been  much  cultivated  by 
the  attention  he  has  always  paid  to  the  fine  arts;  he  has 
imparted  to  me  infinite  pleasure  by  his  conversation.  I 
have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  has  arrived  safely  in 
Finsbury  Square,  where  I  hope  to  meet  him  before  the  first 
of  January. 

"  You,  I  know,  will  not  expect  me  to  say  much  of  Paris, 
for  the  very  reason  because  there  is  so  much  to  be  said. 
In  visiting  the  apartments  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress,  in 
the  Tuilleries,  I  wished  twenty  times  that  you  could  have 
been  with  me,  to  have  admired  the  exquisite  taste  of  the 
furniture,  the  splendor  of  the  decorations,  and  the  perfection 
which  the  Parisians  have  attained  in  all  the  furniture  and 
arts  of  living.  As  I  am  acquainted  with  very  little  exclu 
sively  French  society,  I  draw  my  ideas  of  French  fashions 
not  perhaps  from  original  sources,  but  from  the  families 
of  Messrs.  Bowdoin,  Parker,  and  Hottinguer.  Their  din 
ners  are  models  of  ease  and  elegance.  The  company  is 
seated  promiscuously,  the  servants  numerous,  the  wines 
light  and  agreeable,  the  time  spent  at  meals  always  mode 
rate,  the  gentlemen  rising  with  the  ladies. 

"  A  French  family,  you  know,  cannot  live  without  com 
pany.  An  evening  spent  at  home  with  one's  husband  and 
children  would  be  terribly  ennuyeiix;  of  course,  the  specta 
cle,  or  a  party,  is  always  at  hand  to  fill  up  the  evening. 
Domestic  education,  I  presume,  is  almost  unknown  in  Paris. 
I  am  extremely  charmed  with  the  general  appearance  of 
French  ladies.  It  is  true,  their  faces  are  by  no  means  as 
handsome  as  you  will  see  among  the  English  and  Ameri 
cans,  but  their  persons,  their  air,  their  tout  ensemble,  is  truly 
admirable  and  fascinating.  The  lowest  wench  in  a  French 
kitchen  dresses  with  more  taste  than  many  English  and  (you 
will  pardon  me)  American  ladies.  Whether  it  is  the  con- 
24  * 


282  IMPRESSIONS    OF    PARIS. 

tinual  contemplation  of  the  finest  works  of  ancient  genius  that 
gives  them  this  power  of  decoration,  and  of  producing  beau 
tiful  effect,  or  whether  their  forms  are  really  better  than 
ours,  I  know  not ;  but  it  is  only  necessary  to  take  a  tour  in 
the  streets  of  Paris,  to  be  satisfied  of  the  superior  elegance 
of  the  women  of  all  ranks. 

"  The  grand  theatre  here,  where  are  played  the  first-rate 
plays  of  Racine,  Corneille,  and  Moliere,  is,  in  my  opinion, 
the  purest  school  of  morals  to  be  found  in  Paris,  excepting, 
perhaps,  the  Protestant  Church.  I  attend  it  once  or  twice 
a  week,  and  return  more  satisfied  than  from  any  other  place 
of  amusement  in  Paris.  But  alas !  I  feel  that  in  this  city 
I  am  not  where  I  ought  to  be,  and  I  sigh  for  America, 
for  New  England,  for  my  people  and  friends.  How  glad 
I  am  that  none  of  my  female  friends  were  born  here,  al 
though  I  wish  they  could  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  a  visit !  I 
know  none  who  would  enjoy  it  more  than  you,  and  S.,  and 
Mr.  Lyman,  but  —  —  you  will  never  come  ;  and  I  pray 
God  I  may  be  able,  before  the  end  of  six  months,  to  com 
municate  to  you  a  little  of  what  I  have  collected  worthy  of 
your  ear 

"  You  will  think  this  a  strange  letter,  but,  from  such  a 
city  as  Paris,  what  shall  I  write  ?  About  the  Tuilleries  and 
the  Louvre  ?  It  would  take  a  quire  of  paper.  About  the 
Venus  de  Medicis  and  the  Apollo?  What,  —  that  they 
are  very  pretty  statues  ?  Precious  information  !  and  you 
would  put  me  down  for  a  coxcomb.  In  the  midst  of  Paris, 
my  desires  turn  towards  Boston.  This  single  confession  is 
a  sufficient  answer  to  all  affectionate  inquiries,  and  proves 
me,  as  ever,  your  affectionate,  faithful  servant, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

"  Paris,  December  7th,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  SISTERS,  —  I  wilt  begin  this  page  with  tender 
ly  recollecting  you,  and  the  little  ones, —  you,  the  careful 


EDUCATION    OF    YOUNG    LADIES.  283 

guardians,  they,  the  docile  objects  of  your  love  and  care. 
It  is  painful  beyond  expression  to  be  so  shut  out  from  com 
munication  with  you,  I  sincerely  hope  you  have  not  suf 
fered  so  much  from  ignorance  of  your  brother's  welfare.  I 
have  written  every  month,  if  my  letters  have  only  arrived 
in  season  to  relieve  your  anxiety.  If  I  only  knew  what 
you  would  be  most  pleased  with,  I  could  procure  you  here 
a  thousand  little  conveniences,  at  a  much  cheaper  rate  than 
they  are  to  be  procured  in  America  ;  but  alas !  I  know  not 
your  wishes  nor  your  wants.  I  am  doubtful  whether  let 
ters  written  in  English  will  be  permitted  to  pass.  In  this 
state  of  uncertainty,  I  have  wished  a  thousand  times  that  you 
understood  French,  that  I  might  address  my  letters  to  you 
in  that  language,  which  is,  in  fact,  the  only  one  understood 
all  over  the  world.  Would  it  not  be  worth  your  while,  my 
dear  sisters,  to  apply  yourselves  a  little  to  it,  to  ascertain 
whether  you  made  sufficient  progress  to  encourage  you  to 
proceed,  and,  by  the  help  of  a  grammar  and  dictionary, 
and  afterwards  without,  to  enter  on  some  easy  author,  such 
as  Florian  and  Marmontel,  and  afterwards  upon  the  vast 
stores  of  pleasant  reading  with  which  French  literature 
abounds  ?  The  system  of  education  here,  for  young  ladies, 
is  extremely  rigid.  Under  the  age  of  twenty,  and  even 
till  marriage,  they  are  confined  very  much  at  home.  They 
are  never  suffered  to  visit,  and  rarely  to  go  out  without 
their  mothers  or  instructors.  The  strictest  attention  is  paid 
to  the  decency  of  their  manners.  There  education  is  rigid, 
though  perhaps  trivial  and  superficial.  Not  a  day  passes 
of  which  two  or  three  hours  are  not  devoted  to  the  piano, 
to  the  drawing-master,  the  dancing- master,  and  perhaps 
Italian,  English,  or  German.  It  is  only  after  marriage  that 
young  women  are  free.  They  are  married  without  their 
choice,  I  had  almost  said  without  their  knowledge  :  of  course, 
the  last  persons  they  are  solicitous  to  please  are  their  hus 
bands.  Each  partner  has  separate  pleasures  and  pursuits. 


284  LIFE    IN    PARIS. 

A  French  lady  never  grows  old.  It  is  indeed  astonishing 
to  find  how  long  they  retain  their  vivacity;  and  there  is 
nothing  to  betray  their  age,  for  their  complexions,  thanks 
to  the  perfection  to  which  they  have  brought  the  cosmetic 
art,  are  the  same  at  every  period  of  life.  I  hope,  my  dear 
sisters,  you  will  always  remain  young  without  the  help  of 
paint,  and  full  of  vivacity  without  being  indebted  for  it 
to  the  happy  climate  of  France,  but  to  the  combined  influ 
ences  of  good  sense,  benevolence  ever  active,  and  piety 
ever  grateful  and  ever  resigned.  When,  when  shall  I  have 
the  happiness  to  receive  a  letter  from  you  ?  But  I  will  not 
be  uneasy.  The  Atlantic  of  three  thousand  miles  sepa 
rates  us,  it  is  true ;  but  what  is  that  to  the  eye  of  Provi 
dence  ?  A  line,  a  point 

"  I  am  not  sufficiently  charmed  with  Paris  to  make  me 
happy  here.  It  is  a  place,  I  think,  with  which  no  man  can 
be  enraptured  who  is  not  willing  to  seek  for  pleasure  be 
yond  the  limits  of  strict  evangelical  morality.  But  still 
there  is  enough  to  employ  every  moment  of  a  literary  man's 
hours ;  and  if  I  wished  to  devote  myself  to  any  science 
except  those  connected  with  theology,  there  is  no  place  on 
the  face  of  the  globe  that  presents  such  varied  and  rich 
facilities. 

"Forgive  the  emptiness  of  this  letter.  Take  care  of 
papa,  and  may  God  keep  you  all  to  embrace  once  more 
your  dear  brother  !  J.  S.  B." 

"  Paris,  December  10th,  1806. 

"  Mr  DEAR  SISTERS,  —  This  day  is,  without  exception,  the 
most  delightful  that  I  have  enjoyed  since  I  left  Boston.  I 
am  in  ecstasies  ;  my  hand  trembles  with  joy  and  gratitude. 
I  have  just  received  a  large  packet  of  letters  from  America, 
the  first  since  the  beginning  of  October.  O,  my  dear  sisters, 
how  exquisite  is  the  happiness  of  hearing  from  home  !  I 
forget  that  I  am  in  Paris ;  your  letters  have  transported  me 


EMPLOYMENT    IN    PARIS.  285 

to  America,  to  Portsmouth,  to  our  own  fireside  !  When 
shall  I  hear  again  ?  God  be  thanked  that  these  have 
reached  me,  and  that  they  do  not  contain  a  single  article 
distressing,  or  even  unpleasant. 

"  You  will  no  doubt  be  surprised  that  I  have  remained 
so  long  in  Paris.  I  am  us  much  surprised  at  it  as  your 
selves.  I  have  my  passport  now  in  my  pocket,  and  wait 
impatiently  to  get  away.  You  will  ere  this  have  seen  the 
decree  of  the  Emperor,  which  renders  all  intercourse  be 
tween  the  Continent  and  England  almost  wholly  impracti 
cable.  Still,  however,  I  hope  I  have  not  been  uselessly 
employed  here.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  my  health  is  every  day  reestablishing  itself. 
I  hope  to  return  to  you  and  my  dear  father,  if  not  entirely 
cured,  at  least  much  ameliorated.  But  of  the  former  I 
have  many  reasons  to  hope,  even  confidently.  I  trust  I 
shall  be  able  to  be  more  useful,  more  industrious,  and  more 
interested  in  the  great  cause  of  truth  and  piety,  than  ever, — 
that  I  shall  be  a  more  devoted,  I  cannot  be  a  more  affection 
ate,  brother.  But  this  remains  a  secret  in  the  wrill  of  Heaven, 
and  why  should  I  be  anxious  to  explore  it  ?  Even  if  Eu 
rope  should  be  destined  to  receive  my  bones,  and  strangers 
to  close  my  dying  eyes,  is  there  not  another  country  in 
which  no  good  man  will  be  a  stranger  ?  Yes,  there  is. 
And  let  me  beg  of  you,  my  beloved  sisters,  to  remember, 
that  it  is  the  region  to  which  all  our  hopes  and  fears,  our 
pursuits,  our  inquiries,  and  our  meditations,  should  continu 
ally  tend,  or,  at  least,  from  which  we  should  never  be  es 
tranged,  and  to  which  we  should  never  even  for  a  moment 
be  indifferent.  May  God  form  you  both  to  rational  and  en 
lightened  faith  in  his  religion,  and  to  an  habitual  love  of 
all  its  duties.  I  hojJe  you  have  received  a  work  which  I 
requested  might  be  sent  to  you  from  Boston,  written  by  that 
excellent  woman,  Mrs.  Hamilton 

"  My  principal   employment   here    has   been   collecting 


286  LIFE    IN    PARIS. 

books.  Works  in  theology  may  be  bought  for  a  trifle,  and 
I  have  gone  to  the  full  extent  of  my  resources  in  collecting 
a  very  large  library.  I  wish  you  read  French.  I  could 
provide  you  here  a  little  library  at  a  cheap  rate,  which 
would  be  an  endless  source  of  pleasure  to  you,  when  your 
cares  are  less  than  at  present,  and  you  will  have  culti 
vated,  I  hope,  that  taste  for  reading,  which  will  be  to  you 
of  infinitely  more  value  than  jewels  and  riches  inexhaustible. 

"  I  should  have  reaped  much  greater  pleasure  from  my 
long  sejour  in  this  city,  if,  in  the  first  place,  there  were  any 
Protestant  church,  which  I  could  have  frequented  with  satis 
faction,  and,  in  the  next  place,  if  I  understood  the  language 
sufficiently  to  take  pleasure  in  French  society.  Without 
this  accomplishment,  Paris  must  be  in  some  measure  dull  to 
any  person  who  is  not  willing  to  relieve  his  ennui  by  rush 
ing  into  scenes  of  guilty  amusement.  The  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais  is  certainly  an  exception,  and  perhaps  the  best  school 
of  morals,  as  well  as  the  best  means  of  learning  a  correct 
pronunciation  of  the  language,  in  Paris.  I  have  been  there 
two  or  three  evenings  every  week,  and  consider  it  time  well 
spent. 

"  Mr.  Bowdoin's  family  has  become  almost  indispensable 
to  me.  Judge  Tudor's  is  very  agreeable.  They  have  a 
little  company  every  Monday  evening,  among  whom  are 
to  be  found  most  of  the  Americans  here.  I  find  entertain 
ment  of  a  still  higher  class  in  the  company  of  Count  Rum- 
ford,  and  of  those  whom  I  meet  at  his  house.  Pie  has  a 
weekly  meeting  of  the  members  of  the  Institute,  and  his 
wife,  the  widow  of  the  famous  Lavoisier,  is  able  to  bear  a 
part  in  the  most  scientific  discussions.  I  must  refer  you  to 
the  letters  I  shall  send  to  some  of  my  friends  in  Boston, 
which  contain  a  few  of  the  impressions  which  this  city  has 
made  upon  my  mind. 

"  I  have  received  my  mother's  hair  with  the  greatest 
pleasure.  As  to  the  portrait,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  an- 


LETTER    TO    MR.    LYMAN.  287 

swer  your  request ;  at  any  rate,  I  hope  I  shall  not  have  time 
to  have  it  executed  in  Paris 

"  I  add  only  a  few  words,  that  I  am  pleased  at  anything 
which  looks  like  literary  taste  or  curiosity  in  your  letters. 
Although  I  am  aware  that  both  my  sisters  are  immersed  in 
cares  for  their  father  and  the  younger  ones,  yet  I  am  grati 
fied  to  perceive  in  your  letters  that  your  minds  are  con 
tinually  ripening  and  improving.  Your  sex  have  always 
been  famous  for  their  epistolary  excellence.  Madame  de 
Sevigne  in  France,  and  Lady  Montagu  in  England,  have 
left  the  finest  specimens  in  this  kind  of  writing.  Perhaps 
Cowper,  however,  has  redeemed  the  inferiority  of  our  sex 
in  this  respect.  But  the  first  requisite  in  letter-writing  is  a 
most  accurate  orthography.  Elegant  effusions  of  sentiment 
will  not  compensate  a  defect  in  spelling  in  the  eyes  of  a 
person  who  sees  the  original.  In  the  next  place,  a  gram 
matical,  and,  lastly,  an  easy  and  perspicuous,  construction 
of  sentences,  is  indispensable.  J-<et  me  recommend  to  your 
perusal  Blair's  large  work  on  Rhetoric  and  Belles  Lettres. 
I  shall  devote  the  next  pages  to  the  little  ones. 

"  Farewell,  my  dear  sisters.  I  love  you  more  and  more 
the  farther  I  am  from  you,  and  the  longer  I  am  absent. 
Your  dear  brother,  J.  S.  B." 

To  Mr.  Lyman  :  — 

"  Paris,  January  2d,  1807. 

"  MY  DEAR  BENEFACTOR  AND  FRIEND,  —  My  father  tells 
me,  in  a  letter  dated  some  time  in  August,  which  I  received 
about  a  week  ago,  that  you  appea  redsomewhat  surprised 
at  not  having  received  any  letter  from  me.  If  I  had  thought 
that  my  neglect  of  writing  would  have  appeared  to  you  an 
indication  of  my  having  lost  any  portion  of  that  love  and 
respect  which  I  have  ever  felt  for  you,  I  should  not  have 
been  guilty  of  so  much  inconsiderateness,  which  I  fear  you 
have  felt  as  a  kind  of  ingratitude.  But  really,  my  dear 


288  LETTER    TO    MR.    LYMAN. 

Sir,  as  I  bad  never  been  in  tbe  habit  of  corresponding  with 
you,  I  was  a  little  doubtful  whether  you  would  now  ex 
pect  it  from  me  ;  and  if  I  have  failed  in  duty,  I  can  never 
fail  in  affection.  I  hope  Mrs.  Lyman  has  received  all  the 
letters  I  have  addressed  to  her,  and  that  you  both  have  seen 
those  I  have  addressed  to  Shaw  and  Walter.  If  you  have 
not  been  made  perfectly  acquainted  with  everything  that 
I  have  written  to  America,  it  was  because  my  correspond 
ents  were  ignorant  of  the  perfect  confidence,  affection,  and 
regard  I  have  always  cherished  towards  you.  Forgive  me, 
I  pray  you,  if  I  have  not  fulfilled  what  you  expected  from 
me,  and  let  me  know  that  you  have  received  this  letter, 
and  have  pardoned  me. 

"  I  have  not  heard,  in  any  of  my  letters  from  Boston,  that 
Theodore  has  entered  college  this  year.  I  hope  you  will 
not  allow  him  to  cherish  anything  like  indifference  for  a 
liberal  education.  1  have  the  greatest  hopes  from  him. 
Give  my  love  to  him  and  to  George.  O,  may  they  never 
be  corrupted,  —  never  lose  those  qualities  which  have  made 
them  so  many  friends,  and  so  dear  to  me  !  Tell  them  that 
they  must  not  forget  him,  who  hopes  to  have  the  happiness 
of  seeing  the  fruit  of  some  of  those  early  instructions  which 
it  was  always  his  pleasure,  and  he  trusts  will  be  his  honor, 
to  have  given  them. 

"  A  few  words  for  Mrs.  L.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
passing  an  evening  with  Helen  Maria  Williams.  She  has 
a  literary  coterie  every  Sunday  evening.  She  is  now  rather 
advanced  in  years,  and  certainly  homely,  but  a  very  in 
teresting  woman.  Madame  de  Genlis  lives  in  Paris,  not  very 
much  respected.  Her  works,  however,  still  pass  through 
many  editions,  and  when  the  Bourbons  again  are  in  power, 
her  turn  will  come,  as  she  educated  some  of  the  members  of 
that  family.  Madame  D'Arblay  resides  here  also.  I  haVe, 
some  hopes  of  being  introduced  to  her.  She  is  a  novelist 
who  has  lived  her  own  romances,  as  she  is  said  to  have 


RETURN    TO    ENGLAND.  289 

made  a  most  imprudent  marriage  for  love,  and  is  in  very 
low  circumstances.  Madame  de  Stae'l  has  been  long  since 
banished  from  Paris,  on  account  of  the  freedom  of  the  liter 
ary  and  political  conversations  she  was  in  the  habit  of  hold 
ing  at  her  evening  parties  of  men  of  letters,  —  a  kind  of  club 
which  the  Emperor  did  not  choose  to  tolerate.  So  much 
for  literary  ladies. 

"  Do  not  let  the  present  state  of  political  affairs  in  Eu 
rope  weigh  too  much  upon  you  mind.  I  have  no  right  to 
ask  you  for  a  few  lines,  but  I  have  a  right  to  say  how  grate 
ful  they  would  be. 

"  Yours,  with  every  sentiment  of  affection, 

"J.  S.  B." 

"  Plymouth,  Feb.  15th,  1807. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  commence  a  letter  at  this  place  ; 
perhaps  it  will  be  finished  in  London.  At  length  I  have  es 
caped  from  France,  —  that  land  of  delays,  vexations,  police, 
and  passports,  —  and  am  safely  landed  on  British  ground, 
where  I  feel  at  ease,  secure,  and  comfortable.  It  is  now 
three  months  since  I  began  to  look  out  for  an  opportunity  of 
coming  over,  and  just  as  I  was  upon  the  point  of  conclud 
ing  to  leave  Paris  for  Holland,  the  imperial  decree  came 
out  interdicting  every  species  of  communication  with  the 
British  Isles.  This  decree  is  executed  with  peculiar  rigor 
in  Holland,  so  that  my  hopes  from  that  quarter  were  cut 
off,  and  I  was  unwilling  to  undertake  so  long  a  journey  as 
from  Paris  to  Rotterdam  with  prospects  so  unsafe.  About 
the  middle  of  November,  I  heard  that  Mr.  Charles  Williams, 
of  Boston,  was  at  Cherbourg;  that  he  was  going  round  to 
Treguier,  a  little  port  on  the  coast  of  Brittany,  to  take  in  a 
cargo  of  wheat,  and  that  he  would  go  immediately  to  some 
part  of  England.  I  wrote  to  him  on  the  subject  of  taking 
Mr.  Thacher  and  myself  as  passengers.  To  this  he  most 
obligingly  consented ;  and  I  accordingly  took  out  passports 
25 


290  JOURNEY    THROUGH    BRITTANY. 

at  the  police,  to  embark  at  Treguier  for  the  United  States. 
These  passports  I  have  carried  in  my  pocket  more  than 
three  months.  Mr.  Williams  was  detained  six  weeks  at 
Cherbourg.  At  last  we  heard  of  his  sailing,  and  were  ex 
pecting  every  day  to  be  informed  of  his  arrival  at  Treguier, 
upon  which  we  were  immediately  to  set  out  from  Paris. 
On  his  passage  round,  he  was  taken  by  a  privateer  and  car 
ried  into  Guernsey.  Hearing  nothing  from  him  for  a  fort 
night,  we  gave  him  up  as  lost  or  taken,  and  resigned  our 
selves  to  the  expectation  of  remaining  in  France  for  an  indefi 
nite  period.  At  length,  however,  about  the  beginning  of 
February,  we  were  informed  of  his  arrival  at  Treguier,  and 
that  we  must  be  there  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  After  spending  eight  days  in  traversing  the  vilest  roads 
through  the  most  barbarous  country  of  France,  filled  and 
traversed  about  three  years  since  with  Chouans  and  brig 
ands,  we  arrived  at  the  little  port  just  in  season  to  get  on 
board  the  vessel.  In  about  thirty  hours,  we  set  our  feet  on 
the  opposite  shore.  I  shall  set  off  for  London  to-morrow, 
and  hope  to  reach  it  in  five  days. 

"  In  all  this  arrangement  of  my  circumstances,  through 
the  whole  of  this  last  winter,  I  think  I  see  the  hand  of  the 
kindest  Providence.  Much  against  my  will,  I  was  detained 
in  a  mild  climate  through  the  severe  months,  by  which  my 
health  has  been  restored.  I  have  been  reserved  for  the 
most  favorable  opportunity  in  the  world  for  getting  over  at 
last  in  the  vessel  of  a  friend,  where  I  could  be  perfectly  at 
home,  without  inconvenience  and  without  expense  ;  and,  to 
crown  the  whole,  the  most  favorable  gales  have  wafted  us 
to  England  in  the  shortest  time. 

"  The  season  is  astonishingly  mild.  The  whole  country 
round  Plymouth  is  covered  with  verdure,  and,  through  the 
whole  of  the  part  of  France  which  I  traversed,  the  buds 
were  swelling  and  the  grass  growing.  I  cannot  but  con 
sider  it  also  a  great  favor,  that,  in  travelling  in  the  diligence 


JOURNEY    THROUGH    BRITTANY.  291 

through  Brittany,  where  the  people  are  extremely  barbarous, 
clad  in  goat-skins,  and  speaking  a  barbarous  language,  I 
should  everywhere  on  the  road  have  met  with  the  most 
obliging  and  attentive  Frenchmen,  who  did  everything 
to  facilitate  our  journey,  and  whom,  if  I  should  ever  meet 
them  in  America,  I  shall  rejoice  to  embrace  as  friends  and 
brothers.  My  health  continues  uninterrupted.  Adieu." 

There  is  recorded  in  the  notice  of  this  rapid  journey 
to  Treguier  a  singular  incident  of  the  romance  of  real 
life,  that  seems  stranger  than  the  romance  of  fiction. 

"  There  travelled  with  us,"  he  remarks,  "  in  the  diligence, 
an  ugly  Frenchman.  Some  of  the  company  said  he  was 
hastening  on  to  Rennes,  to  take  possession  of  the  estate 
of  a  brother  who  had  lately  died  in  the  absence  of  his  wife ; 
and  it  was  supposed  she  had  not  heard  of  the  death  of  her 
husband,  and  that  she  would  lose  all  her  little  estate.  As 
we  were  sitting  around  the  fire  in  the  kitchen  of  the  inn,  re 
lating  these  circumstances,  an  aged  and  sorrowful  woman 
appeared  'o  listen  attentively.  Upon  inquiry,  we  found  that 
it  was  the  widow,  hastening  on  to  her  husband,  with  whom 
she  had  been  reconciled,  but  ignorant  till  that  moment  of 
his  death.  She  was  without  means  of  pursuing  her  journey 
with  sufficient  rapidity  to  reach  Rennes  as  soon  as  the 
brother-in-law.  The  passengers  of  the  diligence  made  up 
a  sum,  and  engaged  the  landlord  of  the  inn  to  send  her 
immediately  on  her  way.  God  grant  she  may  reach  home 
in  time  to  prevent  the  fraud  of  the  brother." 

Another  interesting  circumstance  is  mentioned  in  the 
record  of  this  journey.  A  company  of  soldiers,  a  por 
tion  of  the  coast  guard,  were  travelling  this  same  road 
through  Brittany.  The  captain,  with  his  wife,  accom 
panied  them  in  the  diligence.  The  difficulty  of  speak- 


292  GRIEF    AT    THE 

ing  the  language,  and  the  barbarous  state  of  the  country, 
rendered  it  hard  for  these  two  young  men  of  a  peaceful 
profession  to  make  themselves  understood.  The  cap- 
tain'-s  wife,  however,  took  them  under  her  especial  pro 
tection,  foraged  for  them,  and  proved  in  this  instance 
the  often  repeated  assertion  of  the  quick  understanding 
and  prompt  kindness  of  woman. 

Another  .letter  to  his  father  resumes  the  corre 
spondence. 

"  London,  Feb.  22d,  1807. 

"  I  have  arrived  in  London  to  meet  with  the  saddest  re 
verse.  I  have  just  heard  of  the  death  of  my  dear  friend 
Walter !  O,  my  dear  Sir,  you  cannot  know  how  much  I 
loved  him !  I  never  knew  till  now  what  it  was  to  lose  so 
dear,  so  excellent  a  friend.  I  have  been  writing  letters  of 
consolation  to  some  of  my  afflicted  people,  and  now  I  want 
it  myself.  My  dear,  aged  friend,  Deacon  Storer,  too  !  Ah, 
a  great  chasm  is  made  in  the  precious  circle  of  my  attach 
ments.  God  preserve  you  and  my  dear  sisters  !  But  alas ! 
I  tremble  at  every  letter  which  arrives,  lest  it  should  tell 
of  the  loss  of  some  friend.  I  hope  to  be  able  to  preserve 
my  health  and  the  equanimity  of  my  spirits  by  the  aid  of 
our  blessed  religion ;  but  this  shock  is  dreadful.  I  never 
felt  such  grief  before.  Your  letters  tell  me  of  another 
dreadful  fire  in  Portsmouth.  I  hope  the  loss  of  fortune  will 
teach  them  how  foolish  it  is  to  love  money  extravagantly, 
—  ah,  and  even  to  love  anything  on  earth  extravagantly. 
But  my  friend  Walter  is  no  longer  on  earth  ;  he  is  in 
heaven  ! 

"  I  pray  you  be  careful  of  your  cold.  Thank  my  dear 
sisters  for  their  letters.  When  I  feel  more  at  case,  I  shall 
write  more  at  length. 

"  Your  dear  son, 

"J.  S.  B.'1 


DEATH    OF    MR.    WALTER.  293 

"  London,  March  llth,  1S07. 

"  MY  DEAR  SISTERS,  —  Do  not  you  and  my  dear  father  be 
too  much  distressed  to  hear  that  I  have  had  an  ill  turn, 
after  an  interval  of  nearly  half  a  year.  It  was  slight,  very 
slight,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  it  arose  from  something  I  had 
eaten 

"  The  time  that  I  spent  upon  the  Continent  has  passed 
like  a  tale  that  is  told.  It  was  extremely  agreeable,  except 
that  I  was  always  uncertain  of  any  means  of  returning  to 
England.  I  travelled  through  France  towards  the  sea-coast 
during  the  carnival  week,  and  you  would  think  the  whole 
nation  had  run  mad.  In  the  little  villages,  the  peasants, 
from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  are  collected,  and  every 
species  of  foolery  and  absurdity  is  going  on. 

"  You  cannot  know  how  much  I  have  suffered  by  hear 
ing  of  the  death  of  so  many  friends  during  my  absence. 
I  hope,  my  dear  sisters,  you  will  never  be  called  to  such 
heavy  trials.  People  will  tell  us  that  we  are  young  enough 
to  make  new  friends;  —  a  most  impertinent  species  of  con 
solation.  Can  the  new  ever  take  the  place  of  the  old  ?  We 
may  indeed  form  new  attachments,  but  we  cannot  knit 
them  to  the  old  ;  —  the  void  remains,  and  the  heart  bleeds. 
Give  my  sincerest  regards  to  the  Storer  family.  I  loved 
their  father  dearly,  and  I  know  that  he  was  more  attached 
to  me  than  age  commonly  is  to  youth.  I  have  written  to 
Madam  S.,  but  she  is  a  pious  woman,  and  does  not  need 
my  consolation  or  advice.  I  have  also  written  to  two  other 
of  my  parishioners,  who  have  been  most  severely  afflicted 
by  the  loss  of  children  ;  —  I  mean  Mrs.  H.  G,  Otis  and  Judge 
Sullivan 

"  I  have  often  thought,  my  dear  sisters,  how  happy  you 
and  I  are,  in  having  been  born  of  pious  and  sensible  parents, 
descended  from  excellent  ancestors,  educated  in  rather  an 
humble  condition  of  life,  and  drawn  into  the  world  and  its 
notice,  instead  of  being  pushed  out  prematurely.  The  con- 
25* 


294  CORRESPONDENCE. 

sequence  of  this,  1  hope,  will  be,  that  our  manners,  our  under 
standings,  and  our  hearts  will  be  gradually  improving  as  long 
as  we  live  ;  and  as  we  love  one  another  the  more  the  older 
we  grow,  so  we  may  at  the  same  time  be  solicitous  to  ren 
der  ourselves  each  the  more  worthy  of  the  other,  and  of 
that  beloved  parent  whose  affection,  solicitude,  and  loveli 
ness  has  ever  been  impressed  upon  my  heart,  and  who, 
I  have  fondly  hoped,  has  been  permitted  to  watch  over  her 
children. 

"  Have  you  read  any  of  Paley's  works,  —  his  Natural 
Theology,  Moral  Philosophy,  Evidences,  etc.  ?  I  think  you 
will  find  his  Natural  Theology  particularly  interesting.  The 
world  has  talked  too  long  about  books  for  ladies ;  you  ought 
to  read  fundamentally  the  same  books  with  the  other  sex. 
I  look  forward  with  anxious  and  increasing  pleasure  to  the 
hour  of  returning  to  you,  and  imparting  to  you  the  added 
knowledge  it  has  been  my  good  fortune,  rather  than  my 
desert,  to  obtain  beyond  you.  I  shall  try  to  procure  a  few 
elementary  books,  which  shall  be  of  use  to  my  little  sisters 
and  brother. 

"  Since  I  wrote  to  papa,  I  have  preached  at  the  Old 
Jewry  for  Dr.  Rees,  and  have  brought  upon  myself  a  great 
many  solicitations,  which  I  resist  manfully.  I  have  just  come 
from  seeing  an  old  gentleman  at  Hackney,  who  has  been 
a  preacher  there  thirty-five  years,  —  Mr.  Samuel  Palmer,  a 
particular  friend  of  Orton,  and  editor  of  his  life  and  letters. 
I  believe  I  shall  be  obliged  to  give  him  a  discourse.  But  I 
have  been  induced  to  preach  not  so  much  to  assist  my 
friends,  I  acknowledge,  as  to  keep  up  a  kind  of  familiarity 
with  the  pulpit,  that  I  may  not  return  raw  and  awkward. 
As  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  observe,  —  and  I  have  attended 
upon  almost  every  variety  of  preaching  in  London,  —  the 
discourses  here  are  very  far  inferior  to  those  we  usually 
hear  in  New  England. 

"  God  preserve  you,  my  dear  sisters  !    Ah,  I  little  thought. 


VIEWS    OF    HIS    STATE    OF    HEALTH.  295 

when  I  besought  my  dear  friend  Walter  to  be  thankful  for 
my  preservation,  I  should  so  soon  lament  his  departure  in 
the  bloom  of  life  and  hopes !  Adieu.  Your  dear  brother, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

To  his  father  :  — 

"  London,  May  5th,  1807. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIB,  —  A  year  has  nearly  elapsed  since  I  gave 
you  my  last  look  at  Portsmouth ;  —  a  year  full  of  variety, 
and  perhaps  not  entirely  destitute  of  profit.  A  few  weeks 
more,  and  my  exile  is  at  an  end.  As  I  draw  near  the  term 
of  my  absence,  my  mind  is  torn  by  a  thousand  contrary 
emotions.  I  wish  to  escape  from  London,  for  I  have  re 
ceived  the  most  unbounded,  and  it  seems  to  me  the  most 
unmerited,  as  it  is  the  most  unexpected,  kindness  from  every 
person  to  whom  I  have  been  introduced ;  and  I  am  making 
friends  here,  whom  I  shall  leave  with  increased  regret  if  I 
remain  longer.  I  wish  upon  my  return  to  be  perfectly  un 
embarrassed,  that  I  may  enjoy  the  undivided  happiness  of  em 
bracing  you  in  America.  If  the  malady  with  which  it  has 
pleased  God  to  try  me  should  not  entirely  disappear,  I  hope 
that  I  shall  be  able,  by  his  grace,  so  to  discipline  my  mind 
as  to  prepare  it  for  any  consequences  of  such  disorder ;  — 
consequences,  indeed,  which  I  anticipate  with  anguish  of 
soul,  but  which  I  think  I  could  bear  without  guilty  com 
plaint.  If  I  should  be  obliged  to  relinquish,  at  some  future, 
I  hope  far  distant,  day,  the  care  of  my  people,  this  would 
be  the  severest  blow  of  all.  But  even  this  would  be  re 
lieved  by  the  consideration  that  the  greatest  good  is  com 
monly  done  in  youth,  and  by  young  preachers,  when  the 
attachment  of  the  society  is  fresh,  and  the  zeal  of  the  pas 
tor  most  active.  Do  not  think,  from  the  strain  of  this  let 
ter,  (which  I  have  unconsciously  run  into,)  that  my  com 
plaints  return.  No;  thank  God,  I  have  reason  to  believe 
they  will  afflict  me  less  and  less,  and  that  my  voyage  and 
residence  on  the  Continent  will  contribute  essentially  to  my 


296  CORRESPONDENCE. 

restoration  ;  but  I  wish  to  show  you  that  the  most  dreadful 
consequences  of  my  malady  are  familiar,  as  they  ought  to 
be,  to  my  thoughts,  and  that  no  presumptuous  expectations 
of  fame,  or  of  long  life,  ever  for  a  moment  make  me  in 
sensible  to  the  perpetual  lesson  of  humility  with  which  God 
has  visited  me. 

"  When  I  think  of  the  numerous  distressing  events  which 
have  taken  place  among  my  acquaintance  during  my  ab 
sence,  I  bless  God  that  the  force  of  them  is  in  some 
measure  diminished  by  distance. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  delay  setting  off  for  Scotland  at  present, 
for  all  the  horses  are  taken  up  in  electioneering,  and  the 
whole  kingdom  is  in  a  ferment.  I  intend  if  possible  to  be 
in  Edinburgh  during  the  sitting  of  the  General  Assembly 
of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  which,  you  know,  is  one  of  the 
most  famous  ecclesiastical  courts  in  the  world.  I  do  not 
at  present  expect  to  be  able  to  visit  the  Highlands,  but  shall 
go  from  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow,  thence  cross  over  to  Ire 
land,  proceed  to  Dublin,  and,  upon  our  return,  take  South 
Wales,  &c.,  &c.,  to  Oxford,  on  our  way  back  to  London. 

"  This  may  be  the  last  letter  I  shall  write  from  this  side 
of  the  water,  as  I  shall  embark  immediately  upon  my  re 
turn  from  this  tour.  My  love  to  my  dear  sisters  and  broth 
er.  Remember  me  to  the  aged  saints  at  York. 

"  Your  dear  son, 

"  J.  S.  B." 


CHAPTER     XV. 

MR.  BUCKMINSTER'S   RETURN  TO  BOSTON. — INCREASED  AR 
DOR     IN     HIS     STUDIES.  FRIENDSHIP     AND     ATTACHMENT 

TO    MR.    WALTER.  —  GRIEF    AT    HIS    DEATH. 

1807.  ON  the  10th  of  September,  1807,  Mr.  Buck- 
Aged  23.  minster  returned  to  Boston.  The  extracts 
from  his  letters  to  his  family  during  his  absence  have 
been  presented  in  one  connected  series,  not  so  much 
for  the  importance  of  the  subjects  they  touch  upon,  or 
for  their  intrinsic  value,  but  as  they  display  his  personal 
feelings  and  his  strong  attachment  to  domestic  associa 
tions.  There  is  in  them  no  pride  of  learning  or  of  in 
tellect.  The  simplicity  and  openness  of  his  intercourse 
with  his  friends  was  perhaps  the  most  marked  trait  of 
his  character,  and  exposed  him  sometimes,  with  those 
those  who  did  not  know  of  the  entire  fidelity  of  his 
manners  to  his  inward  impressions,  to  the  charge  of  too 
great  frankness,  or  a  violation  of  conventional  forms. 

The  enchantments  of  the  French  capital  could  not 
wean  him  from  the  hourly  memory  of  those  he  had  left 
at  home.  Devoted  as  he  was  to  theological  studies,  and 
to  the  pursuits  immediately  connected  with  his  profes 
sion,  he  felt  that  the  time  was  lost  which  did  not  aid  him 
in  increasing  the  one  or  in  promoting  the  other.  So 
deep  was  his  sense  of  the  duty  of  preserving  his  relig- 


298  RETURN    TO    BOSTON. 

ious  feelings  fresh  and  unimpaired,  that  he  was  sparing 
of  indulgence  even  in  the  most  innocent  amusements  of 
Paris,  lest  they  should  impair  the  delicacy  of  his  moral 
perceptions  ;  yet  never  was  there  a  person  more  free 
from  ostentatious  observances,  or  who  regarded  with 
deeper  aversion  an  ascetical  and  morose  morality. 

At  the  time  he  visited  England,  there  had  been  a 
long  interval  of  interrupted  intercourse  with  this  country, 
and  he  was  provided  with  very  few  letters  of  introduc 
tion  ;  yet  his  circle  of  acquaintance  soon  became  large, 
and  was  increasing  among  the  dignitaries  of  the  Estab 
lished  Church,  as  well  as  with  Dissenters.  He  excited 
interest  by  the  freshness  and  naivete  of  his  character. 
There  was  something  about  him  that  arrested  the  at 
tention  of  strangers,  and  this  attention  quickly  ripened 
into  friendship. 

Friends  sprang  up  wherever  he  went.  In  the  hold 
of  the  Dutch  hoy,  the  conversation  in  broken  Latin, 
through  the  hours  of  a  sleepless  night,  so  riveted  the  at 
tention  of  the  worthy  Swiss  pastor,  that  he  addressed 
Latin  letters  to  him  after  his  return  ;  and,  in  the  half- 
civilized  country  of  Brittany,  filled  with  Chouans,  and 
people  scarcely  removed  a  step  from  barbarism,  he 
perpetually  called  forth  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of 
men  whom  he  was  willing  to  regard  as  brothers. 

He  had  gained  so  much  vigor  that  he  entered  with 
new  and  ardent  hopes  of  increased  usefulness  into  every 
field  of  duty.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  his  parish  had 
new  and  double  claims  upon  him,  and  that  to  all  their 
previous  demands  was  now  added  a  debt  of  fervent  grati 
tude.  The  sermon  which  he  preached,  the  Sabbath  after 
his  return,  was  closed  with  the  following  words  :  — 


SERMON    ON    HIS    RETURN.  299 

"I  see,  my  friends,  that  your  expectations  are  increased, 
and  I  feel  that  your  just  claims  upon  my  future  exertions 
are  also  increased.  I  see  that  I  have  lost  many  apologies 
which  I  could  once  command  ;  apologies  for  occasional  in 
dolence,  and  excuses  for  a  thousand  professional  deficiencies, 
with  which  the  feebleness  of  our  powers,  or  the  frailty  of 
our  natures,  is  not  unfrequently  chargeable.  It  is  now  too 
plain,  since  you  cannot  grow  more  indulgent  to  me,  I  must 
become  less  so  to  myself.  I  see,  too,  that,  in  addition  to  the 
ordinary  duties  of  a  pastor,  —  duties  which  he  cannot  in  any 
case  fail  to  discharge,  without  the  most  criminal  unfaithful 
ness  to  his  people,  his  Saviour,  and  his  God,  —  I  have  now 
a  large  debt  of  gratitude  to  repay.  And  do  I  say  this  is 
burdensome  ?  God  forbid  !  No,  my  friends.  It  shall  in 
cite,  if  it  cannot  strengthen,  my  exertions,  and  a  thousand 
labors,  at  which  my  former  weakness  might  have  murmured, 
shall  now  become  imperceptibly  light  and  cheerful  as  Grati 
tude  herself.  If  it  had  pleased  God  to  grant  me  a  greater 
confidence  than  I  have  been  able  to  bring  home  of  the  con 
firmation  of  my  health,  our  joy,  I  think,  would  have  been 
full.  But  now,  even  now,  I  trust  we  shall  have  no  reason 
to  regret  on  my  part  this  temporary  relaxation.  I  know 
that,  on  yours,  there  has  been  no  failure  of  regular  relig 
ious  instruction,  and  that  your  own  candor  has  left  to  you 
nothing  but  kind  anxiety  for  me,  and  to  me  nothing  but 
obligation  and  gratitude.  Far  hence,  then,  every  inauspi 
cious  suggestion  about  futurity !  '  My  grace,'  says  Jesus  to 
the  drooping  Apostle, '  my  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee.'  May 
I  not,  then,  like  Paul,  thank  God  and  take  courage  ?  " 

In  the  words  of  another,  — 

"  He  was  welcomed  by  his  society  with  unabated  affec 
tion  and  regard.  But  no  praise  ever  seduced  him  to  inter 
mit  his  diligence.  His  books  gave  him  an  inexhaustible 
source  of  interest  and  delight ;  and  as  he  was  unavoidably 


300  RENEWED    LABORS. 

exposed  to  frequent  interruptions  during  the  day,  bis  studies 
were  protracted  till  midnight  with  fatal  constancy.  In  the 
inquiries  peculiar  to  his  profession  he  took  increasing  pleas 
ure,  and  he  has  more  than  once  told  me,  that  he  was  fast 
losing  his  taste  for  all  other  studies.  In  order  that  this 
all-absorbing  interest  in  theology  should  not  wholly  destroy 
his  relish  for  elegant  letters,  which  he  justly  considered  as 
a  valuable  auxiliary  to  his  ministerial  influence,  he  continued 
to  lend  his  aid,  as  has  been  mentioned  previously  to  his 
voyage,  to  the  Monthly  Anthology,  and  to  all  the  publica 
tions  of  the  day."  * 

His  activity  was  now  incessant.  He  gave  his  aid  — 
not  only  his  aid,  but  his  most  precious  hours  — to  every 
object  of  public  utility,  to  every  literary  and  benevo 
lent  institution.  These  incessant  calls  made  deep  in 
roads  upon  the  time  that  he  would  gladly  have  given 
to  study,  to  the  pursuits  he  loved  best  ;  and  he  was  com 
pelled  to  redeem  the  hours  from  those  which  should 
have  been  given  to  repose  or  to  exercise.  At  this  time 
his  studies  were  regularly  protracted  till  after  the  mid 
night  hour,  and  followed,  but  not  till  a  few  years  later, 
with  the  feverish  and  restless  night. 

The  sermons  which  he  wrote  during  the  two  years 
after  his  visit  to  Europe  were  perhaps  superior  to  any 
that  he  ever  wrote  ;  they  showed  that  his  spiritual  growth 
had  been  rapid,  that  the  roots  had  struck  deeper,  and  that 
the  fruits  enjoyed  a  serener  and  fresher  atmosphere. 

His  sermons  were  usually  written  late  at  night,  some 
times  even  protracted  into  the  small  hours  of  the  morn 
ing.  A  note  from  the  Hon.  James  Savage  confirms 
this  statement. 

*  Thacher's  Memoir. 


HABITS    OF    COMPOSITION.  301 

u  It  was  his  habit,  as  you  know,  to  give  more  labor 
to  the  preparation  of  his  sermons  than  his  slender  health 
would  justify  ;  at  least,  his  diligence  on  Saturday  night 
was  so  long  protracted,  that,  during  one  winter,  I  often 
called  in  after  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  to  afford  a 
brief  interruption.  He  would  usually  break  off  from 
his  sermon,  and  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  ;  but  he  was 
sometimes  so  absorbed  in  his  work  as  to  desire  me  to 
permit  him  to  continue,  without  change  of  posture,  and 
to  begin  my  cigar  alone,  waiting  some  half  hour  for  him 
to  unite  in  the  indulgence.  After  I  learned,  however, 
from  his  sister,  that  to  finish  his  discourse  was  the  em 
ployment  of  the  last  minutes  before  the  bell  rang  for 
church  on  Sunday  morning,  that  course  was  abandoned." 

These  sermons,  that  were  committed  to  paper  so  late, 
had  been  meditated  much  during  the  week.  His  sister 
always  knew  when  he  was  meditating  his  sermon,  and  did 
not  interrupt  him,  although  the  breakfast  or  supper  were 
wholly  untasted.  But  when  it  was  over  and  the  sermon 
preached,  the  exhilaration  of  his  spirits  was  almost  child 
like.  The  gentleman  already  quoted,  Mr.  Savage,  says,  in 
his  note  : — "  My  memory  associates  him  with  every 
thing  gentle  and  cheerful  in  the  intercourse  between  us 
alone,  and,  when  more  were  present,  he  deferred  to  them, 
and  was  never  willing  to  occupy  so  much  of  the  time  as 
all  desired  him  to  appropriate.  Some  of  the  parishion 
ers,  perhaps  not  more  than  three  or  four,  met  at  his  study 
Sunday  evenings,  after  the  fatigue  of  his  services  re 
quired  relaxation,  and  there  he  seemed  truly  in  his 
element,  when  contributing  to  the  refreshment  of  his 
guests  at  the  slight  supper,  and  still  more  after  its  close, 
and  perfectly  rested,  he  could  take  a  larger  share  in 
the  conversation." 
26 


302  DEATH    OF    MR.    WALTER. 

There  was  indeed  a  circumstance  which  deeply  affected 
him,  and  deducted  largely  from  his  happiness  upon  his 
return  to  Boston.  This  was  the  death  of  his  friend, 
Arthur  Maynard  Walter.  The  reader  may  remember 
the  strong  expressions  of  his  grief  in  his  last  letter  to 
his  father  upon  hearing  the  sudden  and  appalling  news 
of  his  death.  To  this  his  father  answers  by  the  next 
letter  :  —  "I  anticipated  the  shock  which  the  news  of 
the  death  of  your  friend  would  give  you  ;  but  from  your 
chirography  and  expressions,  I  believe  it  was  more  se 
vere  than  it  ought  to  have  been  ;  and  was  perhaps  more 
unexpected  than  anything  ought  to  be  in  this  world  of 
uncertainty  and  death.  We  should  always  reflect  that 
our  friends  are  mortal,  and  that  we  know  not  what 
a  day  may  bring  forth  ;  we  should  form  our  friend 
ships  and  connections  under  this  impression,  and  enjoy 
and  improve  them  accordingly." 

Walter  seems  to  have  been  the  dearest  and  most  in 
timate  of  his  friends.  His  character  was  such  as  to 
inspire  a  warm  attachment  in  a  large  circle.  He  was 
some  years  older  than  Buckrninster,  and  two  years  be 
fore  him  in  college  ;  and  was  one  of  those  who  noticed 
and  encouraged  his  younger  associate,  and  perhaps  was 
ready  to  protect  him  from  the  inconveniences  to  which 
his  small  stature  and  youthful  appearance  might  have 
exposed  him.  He  was  repaid  with  warm  gratitude  and 
an  enduring  attachment.  His  death  also  was  the  first 
deep  wound  of  the  affections  which  my  brother  had  ever 
received,  —  at  an  age,  too,  when  the  heart  is  most  sus 
ceptible  of  the  tenderness  of  friendship.  A  philosopher 
asks,  "  Can  another  be  so  blessed,  and  we  so  pure, 
that  we  can  offer  him  tenderness  ?  "  Such  seems  to 
have  been  the  feeling  of  these  friends  to  each  other  ; 


LAST    LETTER    OF    MR.    WALTER.  303 

and  as  neither  of  them  was  absorbed  by  ties  of  a  more 
selfish  nature,  God  seems  to  have  given  them  each  to 
the  other. 

The  last  letter  that  Walter  wrote  was  to  his  friend,  in 
anticipation  of  his  return  ;  and,  as  it  presents  many  char 
acteristics,  a  part  of  it  is  here  inserted. 

"  November,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  By  our  calculations,  you  will  have 
reached  London,  after  your  jaunt  on  the  Continent,  before 
this  can  arrive  in  England.  I  hope  you  have  been  spirit 
ualized  amid  the  scenery  of  Switzerland  ;  I  know  you  must 
have  been  enchanted  with  the  situation  and  fertility  of 
France  and  Brabant.  I  hope  you  are  now  beginning  seri 
ously  to  think  of  recrossing  the  Atlantic  and  settling  for 
life  among  those  whom  you  love.  In  my  solitary  moments,  I 
sometimes  dwell  on  the  comparative  pleasures  of  London 
and  Paris,  and  on  the  singular  movements  which  the  mind 
experiences  among  various  nations,  severally  and  strangely 
distinguished  by  customs,  manners,  laws,  and  modes  of 
faith.  AH  these  feelings  and  pleasures,  caused  and  adorned 
by  novelty  or  mystery,  have,  in  America,  attracted  my 
mind  at  different  times  towards  the, nations  of  Europe,  and 
Duty  has  exercised  her  strong  dictates  to  prevent  their 
powerful  and  effectual  operation.  But  I  acquire  submis 
sion,  if  not  contentment ;  and  when  I  wish  I  were  in  Lon 
don  or  Paris,  I  consider  that  I  ought  to  remain  where  I  am. 
These  bursts  of  romance  and  regret  you  will  experience 
after  your  return ;  but  your  principles  of  religion  will  give 
you  perfect  tranquillity.  Yet,  indeed,  I  hope  to  visit  Europe 
again,  but  I  shall  not  do  it  till  I  am  perfectly  able  in  every 
respect.  I  love  to  keep  my  mind  quiet,  and  yet  in  a  little 
state  of  agitation  to  prevent  drowsiness  or  too  great  relaxa 
tion.  I  have  missed  you  very  much,  and  still  feel  your 
absence,  as  having  taken  a  large  sum  from  the  amount  of 


304  LETTER  UPON  THE  DEATH 

my  happiness;  but  I  have  Adam  Smith's  constituents  of 
felicity,  health,  a  good  conscience,  and  am  in  no  man's 
debt ;  and  as  there  is  a  great  deal  of  affectation  in  com 
plaint,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  guilty  of  such  folly ;  for  I  can 
truly  say  I  am  quite  happy.  I  have  every  reason  to  be 
contented.  I  hope,  also,  I  am  not  ungrateful  to  the  Giver 

of  every  good  and  every  perfect  gift 

"  The  Anthology  Club  is  large  enough.  I  hate  large 
associations,  —  there  is  no  mingling  of  mind  in  great  com 
panies.  1  beg  that  you  will  return  pretty  soon,  and  take 
your  place  among  us.  I  don't  know  whether  I  told  you  of 
my  having  found  a  fine  cigar  in  your  room,  which  I  smoked 
to  your  health  and  happiness ;  but  I  want  to  smoke  another 
with  you  in  your  study.  I  love  the  tales  of  old  times. 

"  Yours, 

"A.  M.  WALTER." 

When  his  friend  received  this  letter,  the  warm  heart 
of  the  writer  had  ceased  to  beat.  The  following  letter 
will  show  with  what  grief  the  event  was  regarded  by 
the  bereaved  wanderer. 

"  London,  January  22d,  1807. 

"  O,  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  !  *  —  My  heart  is  full  of  anguish  ! 
Mr.  Thacher  has  just  handed  me  his  brother's  letter,  which 
informs  us  of  Walter's  death.  Walter  dead !  I  cannot 
believe  it!  I  cannot  believe  it!  The  transition  of  my  mind 
from  the  highest  delight  to  the  greatest  distress  is  too  vio 
lent  to  be  realized  at  present.  I  had  just  arrived  in  Lon 
don,  delighted  with  having  escaped  at  last  from  France, 
and  burning  with  impatience  to  open  my  letters  from  Ameri 
ca  ;  and,  in  this  state  of  excitement,  I  am  told  Walter  is 
dead  !  O,  dear,  dear  Walter  !  Have  I  lost  you  for  ever  ? 

*  To  William  S.  Shaw,  Esq. 


OF    MR.    WALTER.  305 

Alas  !  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  of  the  weakness  of  my  faith  ! 
When  I  left  you  all  to  come  to  Europe,  the  parting  was  in 
deed  painful,  but  continually  relieved  by  the  belief  that 
I  should  see  you  all  again,  after  some  time  of  absence.  I 
ought  to  feel  that  it  is  the  same  thing  now  with  respect  to 
Walter,  —  that  I  shall  see  him  again,  the  absence  only  a 
little  lengthened.  The  voyage  of  my  own  life  will  not  be 
long,  and  we  shall  meet  again  !  Last  May,  I  took  leave  of 
him  for  a  year  only.  I  could  not  anticipate  that  our  sepa 
ration  would  be  so  much  prolonged ;  but  now  I  feel  that  I 
ought  to  have  been  prepared  for  it.  Dear  Walter !  I 
suspect  the  last  letter  he  ever  wrote  was  addressed  to  me. 
Alas !  I  cannot  read  it  without  tears.  I  have  been  writing 
to  him  by  every  opportunity.  Ah,  they  are  letters  which 
he  will  never  read  !  My  dear  Shaw,  how  I  wish  I  were 
with  you,  to  give  vent  to  my  sorrow  !  I  cannot  do  it  on 
paper.  It  is  a  cold,  idle,  slow  method  ;  and  instead  of  re 
lieving,  it  oppresses  me.  I  look  to  the  great  promises  and 
expectations  which  the  Gospel  holds  out ;  —  they  tell  me  I 
shall  meet  him  again  in  a  world  more  worthy  of  his  noble, 
pure,  pious. heart  than  this,  if  I  should  ever  be  worthy  to 
reach  that  world  myself.  But  the  great  duty  now  is  to  resign 
ourselves  to  this  heavy  loss,  till  we  meet  him  again.  Even 
Jesus  wept  at  the  tomb  of  Lazarus,  though  he  knew  that 
his  power  could  restore  him  again  to  life.  '  Behold,  how 
he  loved  him ! '  said  the  Jews.  We  surely  may  weep.  Alas ! 

we  may  go  to  him,  but  he  cannot  return  to  us ! 

"  My  friend,  I  can  write  no  more  at  present.  I  shall 
endeavour  to  busy  myself  about  your  commissions,*  and 
dissipate  a  little  the  heavy  cloud  which  hangs  over  my  mind. 
O,  my  friend,  how  much  is  subtracted  from  our  hopes  of 
future  enjoyment !  The  recollection  of  Walter,  whenever 
it  occurs  in  writing,  or  in  conversation  about  America,  or 

*  Purchasing  books  for  the  Athenaeum.  ^ 

26* 


306  CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSHIP. 

n   my   solitary    reveries   about    future   pleasures  and    past 
friendships,  really  oppresses  me. 

4  Quis  desiderio  sit  pudor  aut  modus 
Tarn  cari  capitis  ? '  " 

In  the  sermon  which  he  wrote  upon  Christian  friend 
ship,  from  the  example  of  Jesus  and  John,  printed  in 
the  second  volume  of  his  Works,  Walter  seems  to  have 
been  in  his  mind  throughout.  An  extract  from  this 
sermon  follows  :  — 

"  It  is  said  that  friendship  is  nowhere  recommended  to 
us  in  the  New  Testament.  True,  it  is  not;  and  here,  I 
think,  is  a  singular  proof  of  the  thorough  knowledge  which 
our  Saviour  possessed  of  the  human  heart,  and  especially 
of  the  virtuous  affections.  For  is  it  not  easy  to  see  that  it 
would  have  been  absurd  to  enjoin  particular  friendships 
upon  any  man,  as  a  necessary  part  of  his  Christian  or 
moral  character  ?  That  which  is  peculiar  to  this  attach 
ment,  as  it  is  distinguished  from  general  good- will,  is  not 
a  thing  which  depends  on  a  man's  voluntary  exertions.  No 
man  can  go  out  into  the  world  and  say,  '  I  will  have  a 
friend.'  This,  like  other  connections  in  life,  depends  upon 
circumstances  beyond  our  control.  It  depends,  not  merely 
upon  a  man's  generous  benevolence  of  character,  but  upon 
a  fortunate  consent  of  affections,  and  harmony  of  interests, 
which  a  man  may  live  long  in  the  world  and  not  be  so 
happy  as  to  meet.  It  requires  such  a  concert  of  tastes 
and  passions,  such  a  length  and  frequency  of  intercourse, 
such  a  candor  and  unreservedness  of  mind,  as  we  may  not 
easily  find  in  thousands  whom  we  yet  greatly  esteem,  and 
in  many  more  with  whom  we  are  disposed  to  live  on  the 
common  terms  of  peace  and  good  neighbourhood.  To 
have  enjoined,  then,  a  social  attachment  like  this,  as  a  sub- 


CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSHIP.  307 

ject  of  duty,  or  as  an  essential  obligation  on  every  man, 
whatever  may  be  his  circumstances,  is  an  absurdity  of 
which  Jesus  and  his  disciples  could  not  have  been  guilty ; 
and  yet  this  omission  has  been  charged  upon  the  friend  of 
John  and  Lazarus,  as  a  defect  in  his  religion.  Many,  I  doubt 
not,  are  the  Christians  who  have  passed  through  this  world 
of  frequent  changes  and  various  characters,  and  yet  have 
never  chanced  to  meet  a  real  friend.  Many  more  are  there 
who  have  wept  over  the  grave  of  one  long  known  and  loved  ; 
but  alas !  as  they  have  not  the  power  to  awake  him  from 
his  slumbers,  so  too  they  have  not  been  so  fortunate  as  ever 
afterwards  to  replace  him. 

"  If,  my  friends,  we  would  practise  this  virtue  (if  it  must 
be  so  named)  in  all  its  purity,  and  enjoy  our  fondest  attach 
ments  in  perfection,  we  must  call  in  to  our  aid  the  religion 
of  Christ.  Tell  us  not  of  the  heroic  friendships  of  ancient 
story,  when  it  was  thought  generous  to  sacrifice  a  whole 
nation  for  an  injury  to  a  friend,  and  when  the  duties  of  this 
attachment  were  exalted  above  all  other  obligations,  and 
allowed  to  break  every  other  tie,  and  benevolence  itself 
was  lost  in  the  despotism  of  private  love.  Tell  us  not  of 
those  modern  connections,  which  demand  of  us  in  honor 
to  sacrifice  one  man's  life  to  vindicate  another's  from  false 
imputations ;  or  of  the  numerous  pitiful  unions  of  wicked 
men  for  purposes  of  interest  or  indulgence,  of  conviviality 
or  temporary  convenience.  These  have  as  little  to  do  with 
affection  as  with  religion.  True  Christian  regard  is  as  dif 
ferent  from  all  this  as  lust  from  pure  love,  or  bodily  strength 
from  real  courage.  The  only  perfect  union  of  minds  is  that 
which  is  animated,  corrected,  and  matured  by  the  evangel 
ical  spirit  of  Christianity.  Why  ?  Because  their  faith 
and  hopes  are  not  only  one  through  their  present  destiny, 
but  because  man  has  interests  and  hopes  in  eternity  dearer 
and  greater  than  any  temporal  well-being;  and  that  union 
of  minds  into  which  eternity  enters  not,  and  makes  no  part 


308 


CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSHIP. 


of  their  common  hopes,  must  be  essentially  defective ;  be 
cause  this  idea,  rendering  the  affection  which  it  influences 
more  sublime  and  more  animating,  must  make  it  superior 
to  any  temporary  union  of  views  and  purposes,  how  many 
years  soever  may  have  cemented  it.  You  anticipate  the 
company  of  your  friend  to-morrow  ;  the  Christian  not  to 
morrow  only,  but  for  ever. 

"  Farther.  The  essential  temper  of  Christianity  is  self- 
distrust  ;  and  it  is  the  very  charm  of  friendship  to  love  to  re 
pose  on  another's  knowledge  and  affection.  The  greatest 
foe  of  grace  is  pride  ;  pride  also  cannot  coexist  with  generous, 

undisguised,  unqualified  affection It  is  also  the 

tendency  of  our  religion  to  exhaust  those  sources  of  jealousy 
and  distrust  which  so  often  embitter  our  tenderest  and  dear 
est  connections.  A  Christian,  knowing  his  own  infirmities, 
will  not  expect  too  much,  even  from  him  he  loves  best. 
He  has  none  of  that  pride  that  takes  offence  at  fancied 
neglects ;  and  he  sees  the  folly  and  the  sin  of  requiring 
from  another  such  an  illiberal  attachment  to  himself  as  shall 
confine  all  his  friend's  sacrifices  to  himself  and  exclude  the 
rest  of  the  world  from  his  attention.  It  therefore  appears 
to  me,  that,  to  make  friendship  perfect,  Christianity  was  neces 
sary  ;  because  this  alone  teaches  us  the  sinfulness  of  wish 
ing  for  such  a  monopoly  of  affection  as  is  demanded  by 
some  narrow  minds,  and  is  so  contrary  to  the  genius  of  the 
Gospel 

"  In  fine,  where  the  affection  between  two  minds  is  not 
influenced  by  a  sense  of  a  present  and  all-gracious  Father 
in  heaven ;  where  they  have  no  communion  of  mind  upon 
the  most  interesting  of  human  contemplations,  God,  Jesus, 
and  the  life  to  come  ;  where  the  tomb,  when  it  has  closed 
upon  one  of  them,  is  thought  to  have  separated  them  for 
ever;  where  the  all-sanctifying  grace  of  the  Gospel  does 
not  mould  their  desires,  correct  and  unite  their  dispositions 
in  humility  and  Christian  love, —  there  may  be  fondness,  there 


CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSHIP.  309 

may  be  momentary  satisfaction,  there  may  be  partiality, 
but  there  is  no  friendship,  such  as  existed  between  Jesus 
and  John  ;  —  such,  in  fact,  as  that  for  which  Jesus  prayed, 
when  he  said,  'Holy  Father,  keep,  through  thine  own 
name,  those  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  that  they  may  be 
one,  as  we  are.' 

"  My  Christian  friends,  if  you  have  found  one  who  leans 
on  your  breast,  and  you  are  not  afraid  that  he  should  listen 
to  the  secrets  that  disturb  it ;  if  wisdom  and  virtue  have  di 
rected  you  to  him  ;  if  ardent  love  of  truth,  generous  ac 
commodation  to  each  other,  fear  of  God,  attachment  to  the 
Gospel  of  Jesus,  and  hope  of  everlasting  life,  have  bound 
you  together,  —  O,  cherish  such  a  union  of  minds  !  The 
grace  of  Jesus  Christ  will  temper  every  desire  of  your 
hearts  and  mellow  your  affections  by  the  gentle  influence 
of  his  Gospel ;  your  interests  will  more  closely  intertwine 
as  you  draw  nearer  to  the  grave,  and  become  more  detached 
from  the  surrounding  distractions  of  the  world ;  and  the 
tomb,  when  it  closes  upon  you,  shall  not  separate  you  ;  for, 
as  God  is  true,  i  them  that  sleep  with  Jesus  will  God  bring 
with  him.'  Jesus,  who  once  raised  a  friend  from  the  tomb, 
will  not  let  it  close  for  ever  on  those  who  love  him,  and 
who  love  like  him." 

Three  years  after,  when  my  brother  pronounced  the 
oration  before  the  Society  of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  Wal 
ter  was  fresh  in  his  memory.  There  are  some,  perhaps, 
who  can  remember  the  fervent  and  chastened  emotion 
with  which  he  pronounced  these  words  :  — 

"  Do  you  want  examples  of  learned  Christians  ?  I  could 
not  recount  them  in  an  age.  You  need  not  be  told  that 

'  Learning  has  borne  such  fruits,  in  other  days, 
On  all  her  branches;  piety  has  found 


310  TRIBUTE    TO    THE    MEMORY    OF    MR.    WALTER. 

Friends  in  the  friends  of  science ;  and  true  prayer 
Has  flowed  from  lips  wet  witli  Castalian  dews.'* 

"  Yes,  it  has !  We  have  known  and  loved  such  men, 
and,  thank  God  !  have  been  loved  by  them.  There  is  now 
present  to  my  mind  the  ima^e  of  a  scholar,  whom  some 
of  you  knew  (for  he  was  one  of  us) ;  and  those  who  knew 
him  well  will  say  with  me,  he  was  as  pure  a  spirit  as 
ever  tasted  the  dews  of  Castalia.  How  would  Walter  have 
delighted  in  this  anniversary !  He  would  have  heard  me ! 
—  me,  who  am  now  left  to  speak  of  him  only,  and  ask  for 
him  the  tribute,  the  passing  tribute  of  your  grateful  recol 
lection  !  He  would  have  heard  me  !  It  may  be  that  he 
hears  me  now,  and  is  pleased  with  this  tribute. 

'  Manibus  date  lilia  plenis; 
Purpureos  spargam  flores  animamque  amici 
His  saltern  accumulem  donis,  et  fungar  inani 
Munere.'  "  t 

There  are  other  tributes  to  the  memory  of  Walter 
scattered  throughout  his  papers.  Indeed,  if  the  time 
were  pointed  out  when  he  appeared  most  happy,  most 
worthy  of  admiration,  most  radiant  with  all  the  riches 
of  his  nature,  it  was  in  the  intimate  intercourse  with 
friends.  Then  was  his  fine  countenance  inspired  with 
thoughts  and  emotions  that  needed  no  restraint  ;  he 
poured  out  the  riches  of  his  imagination,  and  the  hoarded 
treasures  of  thought,  softened  by  the  tenderness  and 
perfect  reliance  of  friendship.  He  had  in  an  eminent 
degree  the  childlike  character  of  genius  ;  his  naivete 

*Cowper's  Task, 
t  vEn.,  Lib.  VI. 

"  Bring  fragrant  flowers,  the  whitest  lilies  bring, 
With  all  the  purple  beauties  of  the  spring; 
On  the  dear  youth,  to  please  his  shade  below, 
This  unavailing  gift,  at  least,  I  may  bestow  !  " 

Dryden  and  Pitt. 


FRIENDS    OF    BUCKMINSTER.  311 

was  understood  only  by  those  who  regarded  him  with 
the  partiality  of  friendship.  His  countenance  and  man 
ner  reflected  with  the  utmost  fidelity  his  transient  and 
passing  feelings.  He  would  be  suddenly  stopped  in  the 
midst  of  an  animated  conversation  by  a  formal  or  affected 
truism  ;  he  would  shrink  into  himself  and  silence,  at 
the  envious  or  malignant  remarks  of  a  selfish  person  ; 
he  felt  depressed  in  the  presence  of  bigotry  or  hypoc 
risy.  How  necessary  was  it  for  such  a  nature  to  be 
protected  by  the  disinterested  observation  of  friendship  ! 
His  lively  sympathy,  when  another  or  himself  had  given 
pleasure  by  an  intellectual  effort,  was  often  mistaken 
for  vanity  by  those  who  did  not  understand  the  peculiar 
simplicity  of  his  character.  He  would  listen  with  as 
much  pleasure  to  the  commendation  of  his  friends  after 
any  arduous  public  exhibition,  or  an  effort  where  much 
had  been  expected  of  him,  as  though  it  were  the  first 
he  had  ever  made.  Reflecting,  as  he  must  always  have 
done,  upon  the  certain,  and  almost  at  any  time  possible, 
influence  of  his  well-known  malady,  he  trembled  Jest 
his  friends  should  discern  a  confirmation  of  his  own 
ever-whispering  warnings  in  any  of  his  public  exhibitions, 
and  therefore  listened  with  anxious  delight  to  their  hon 
est  praises.  He  threw  himself,  as  it  were,  upon  the 
sincerity  and  tenderness  of  friendship,  to  guard  his  repu 
tation,  and  to  inform  him  of  the  first  shadow  that  could 
dim  its  lustre.  Never  was  confidence  in  friends  met 
with  a  more  generous  return.  I  could  scarcely  enu 
merate  those  who  loved  him  while  living,  and  honored 
his  memory  with  their  tears  and  their  eulogy.  Among 
the  foremost  were  Thacher,  Kirkland,  Savage,  Nor 
ton,  Lowell,  Elliot  ;  and,  of  those  who  were  younger, 
to  whom  he  looked  forward  himself  as  friends  of  his 


312  DK.    KIRKLAND. 

maturer  life,  —  Ticknor,  Everett,  Palfrey,  —  it  might 
almost  have  been  said  of  them,  as  of  a  bereaved  father 
at  the  loss  of  his  son,  that  they  would  not  exchange  their 
dead  friend  for  others'  living  ones. 

Perhaps  the  friend  who  shared  the  most  of  his  con 
fidence,  after  his  return  from  Europe,  was  the  Rev. 
S.  C.  Thacher.  The  strength  of  their  attachment  sur 
vived  that  which  is  said  to  be  the  severest  test  of  either 
love  or  friendship,  —  travelling  and  voyaging  together. 
After  their  return,  no  day  passed  that  they  did  not  meet 
in  the  study  of  Buckminster,  and  they  usually  dined 
together.  Their  literary  efforts  were  submitted  each 
to  the  supervision  of  the  other  ;  and  they  maintained 
the  most  jealous  watch  over  each  other's  literary  repu 
tation.  Mr.  Thacher  fulfilled,  with  exquisite  tender 
ness,  taste,  and  beauty,  the  duty  of  surviving  friendship, 
in  the  memoir  prefixed  to  the  first  volume  of  "  Buckmin- 
ster's  Sermons.'7  Their  names  have  since  lived  united 
in  hearts  of  sensibility,  twined  together  by  the  fragrant 
wreath  with  which  a  kindred  genius  has  bound  them.* 

The  two  friends  stood  together  in  the  same  relation 
to  another,  whose  memory  should  not  be  allowed  to  die 
out  of  the  record  of  those  whose  hearts  were  comforted 
by  his  kindness,  or  whose  characters  were  improved  by 
his  counsels.  Dr.  Kirkland  was  fifteen  years  older 
than  Buckminster,  and  eleven  years  his  senior  in  col 
lege  ;  Thacher  was  a  year  younger,  and  four  years  after 
him  in  the  records  of  Alma  Mater  :  both  these  young 
men  appeared  as  younger  brothers  to  Dr.  Kirkland. 
During  all  the  time  which  has  elapsed  since  the  death 
of  the  latter,  friendship  and  admiration  have  not  attempted 

*  Rev.  F.  W.  P.  Greenwood,  in  his  Memoir  of  Rev.  Samuel  Coop 
er  Thacher. 


DR.    K1RKLAND.  313 

to  perpetuate  his  memory  by  a  selection  from  his  ad 
mirably  wise  discourses.  Where  shall  the  next  genera 
tion  search  for  memorials  of  Kirkland,  in  order  to  em 
balm  his  memory  before  it  shall  have  faded  away  ?  * 

There  are  some  still  living  who  remember  the  noble 
and  venerable  qualities  of  Dr.  Kirkland,  —  who  remem 
ber  how  he  united,  in  a  beautiful  approximation,  "the 
kindest  affections  with  the  very  spirit  of  wisdom,  the 
keenest  discernment  with  the  gentlest  judgment  of  human 
infirmities."  He  was  truly  a  wise  man,  for  wisdom 
is  that  exercise  of  the  reason  into  which  the  heart  en 
ters  ;  and  if  any  infirmities  were  discerned  in  the  exer 
cise  of  his  judgment,  they  arose  from  the  too  large 
proportion  of  heart  which  entered  in,  and  perhaps  dis 
turbed  the  equilibrium  of  the  clearest  intellect.  His 
insight  into  character  was  most  penetrating  ;  he  could 
command  the  nicest  dissecting  powers,  capable  of  di 
viding  the  germs  of  good  which  lie  in  every  character 
from  the  mass  of  evil  with  which  education  and  circum 
stance  has  involved  them.  His  sarcasm  was  pungent, 
but  his  kindness  of  heart  forbade  him  often  to  use  its  di 
amond  point.  He  saw  through  the  motives  of  men's 
actions,  even  before  they  were  themselves  aware  from 
what  point  they  sprang  ;  and  how  often  was  a  young 
person  first  made  acquainted  with  an  unconscious  fault 
or  foible,  by  the  delicacy  of  the  keen  remark  that  apolo 
gized  for  it,  or  the  still  keener  irony  which  defended  it  ! 
He  rarely  entered  into  disputation  or  argument,  but 
he  saw  the  whole  field  of  controversy  ;  and  such  was 
his  gentleness  and  urbanity,  that  he  seemed  to  yield 

*  Dr.  Young's  funeral  sermon  was  indeed  a  tribute  of  admiration 
and  friendship. 

27 


314  DR.    KIRKLAND. 

to  others  at  the  very  moment  he  was  leading  them  to 
clearer  views  ;  and  the  light  that  he  threw  upon  a  sub 
ject,  bringing  his  opponent  out  of  his  difficulties,  seemed 
to  the  disputant  to  have  arisen  in  his  own  mind,  and 
he  to  remain  master  of  the  victory  which  Dr.  Kirkland 
had  taught  him  how  to  win.  If  hypocrisy  and  cant 
drew  from  him  a  keen  sarcasm,  cruelty  and  ingratitude 
excited  indignation  which  sometimes  found  expression 
in  the  strongest  terms  of  reprobation  and  contempt. 
His  aphorisms  in  conversation  partook  of  the  mingled 
irony  of  Rochefoucault  and  the  tender  humor  of  Sterne. 
Could  he  have  condescended  to  admit  the  admiration 
of  a  Boswell,  what  a  rich  store  of  anecdote  and  shrewd 
remark  might  have  been  preserved,  as  it  dropped  from 
his  lips  in  the  quiet  bonhommie  of  familiar  conversation  ! 
His  character  should  be  drawn  by  an  able  and  dis 
criminating  pen.  May  we  not  hope,  that,  beside  the 
cold  and  perishable  marble,  which  is  now  the  only  me 
morial  of  him,  we  may  have  a  living  portrait,  drawn  by 
the  heart-inspired  hand  of  genius,  which  shall  conse 
crate  his  memory  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  loved  him, 
and  make  him  known  to  other  generations  ? 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER. HIS    INTEREST    IN  PERIODICAL   LITERA 
TURE. AND     IN     SACRED     LITERATURE. BEGINNING     OF 

UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY.  EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS. 

1808.  THE  year  1808  was   one   of  great  activity 

Aged  24.  jn  tne  life  of  the  son  and  of  great  interest  in 
that  of  the  father.  The  former  begins  it  by  recording 
in  his  journal  his  desire  to  find  and  read  those  books 
that  induce  to  Christian  union.  Nearly  at  this  period 
began  the  controversy  in  the  churches  which  resulted  in 
their  disunion.  He  was  one  of  those  who  as  ardently 
desired  union  as  Lord  Falkland  desired  peace  in  the 
great  civil  war  ;  and  yet,  had  he  lived,  he  must  inevitably 
have  taken  his  part  in  the  protest  which  one  portion  of 
the  Church  were  compelled  to  make  against  what  they 
considered  existing  errors.  Their  protest  was  not  made 
till  these  errors  were  beginning  to  be  established,  as 
they  thought,  by  being  made  part  of  creeds  to  be  sub 
scribed,  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  freedom  in  the  New 
England  churches. 

Mr.  Buckminster  was  now  twenty-four  years  old,  the 
age  when  men  are  just  beginning  a  course  of  action 
which  is  to  result  in  the  benefit  and  improvement  of 
their  fellow-men.  It  is  with  most  persons  the  flowering 
time  of  life,  and  according  as  the  bloom  is  rich  and 
abundant  will  be  the  beauty  and  excellence  of  the  fruit 


316  CHANGES    IN    SOCIETY. 

in  after  years.  Dr.  Charming,  who  was  certainly  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  men  among  his  contemporaries, 
was  settled  at  twenty-three,  and  had  just  begun  his 
beneficent  work.  With  Mr.  Buckminster,  also,  it  was 
but  the  beginning  of  life,  and,  had  he  lived  to  old  age, 
he  would  probably  have  looked  back  to  the  produce 
of  these  years  as  but  of  immature  and  unripe  fruit,  —  the 
feeble  commencement  of  a  future,  but  abundant,  harvest. 
He  mentions  in  his  journal  being  much  moved  by  Mr. 
Channing's  sermon  upon  Ministerial  Zeal,  at  the  ordina 
tion  of  Mr.  John  Codman,  and  records  a  prayer  that 
it  may  have  its  proper  effect  upon  his  heart. 

Both  these  young  men  entered  upon  active  life  at  a 
period  when  great  changes  were  taking  place  in  the 
community  of  which  they  were  members.  For  half  a 
century,  the  active  and  the  educated  intellect  of  the 
country  had  been  absorbed  by  subjects  connected  with 
the  war  of  Independence,  and  the  excitement  of  mind 
produced  by  the  principles  of  the  French  Revolution. 
Things  had  now  settled,  after  the  tumult  and  terror  of 
the  war.  Men  felt  the  security  of  property  ;  pros 
perity,  and  peace,  and  leisure  made  them  begin  to  look 
about  them  for  higher  sources  of  enjoyment  than  mere 
ly  ostentatious  pleasures,  or  the  luxuries  of  social  life. 
The  greater  part,  perhaps,  were  absorbed  in  what  is  said 
to  be  an  exciting  occupation,  the  accumulation  of  prop 
erty,  adding  dollar  to  dollar,  and  acre  to  acre  ;  but 
there  were  others,  who  wished  for  purer  pleasures  and 
more  elevating  enjoyments.  To  both  these  young  men 
belongs  the  honor  of  being  leaders  in  the  social  move 
ment  which  began  about  this  period  of  time. 

The  first  change,  perhaps,  was  a  new  impulse  given 
to   literature  by  a  new  zeal  in  the  acquisition  of  libra- 


PERIODICAL    LITERATURE.  317 

ries,  and  the  regular  and  systematic  importation  from 
abroad  of  periodical  literature,  monthly  publications 
and  reviews,  and  the  establishment  of  reading-rooms 
where  they  could  readily  be  found,  —  the  importation 
of  classical  authors,  as  well  as  of  the  current  publications 
of  the  day.  Now  also  began  the  establishment  of  re 
views  of  our  own,  magazines  of  a  superior  and  solid 
character,  and  the  beginning  of  an  expression  of  an 
opinion  of  our  own  upon  literary  and  critical  matters, 
instead  of  an  entire  reliance  upon  authority.  At  this 
time,  also,  there  commenced  an  interest  in  what  are  called 
critical  studies,  the  philosophical  and  analytical  study  of 
the  classics  and  the  Scriptures.  For  all  these  objects 
Mr.  Buckminster  felt  the  warmest  attachment,  and  the 
last  was  his  favorite  and  most  especial  pursuit. 

The  fortunate  circumstance  of  a  pecuniary  bequest 
from  his  maternal  grandfather,  Dr.  Stevens,  —  who,  from 
a  salary  of  a  hundred  pounds,  laid  up  some  thousands 
of  dollars,  which  were  husbanded,  during  his  grandson's 
minority,  by  the  most  faithful  of  guardians,  Judge  Sew- 
all,  of  York,  — enabled  him,  as  soon  as  it  came  into  his 
hands,  to  indulge  an  innocent  passion,  by  the  importation 
of  English  books.  While  he  was  at  Exeter,  he  had, 
with  great  trouble,  contrived  to  obtain  the  Monthly  Re 
view,  usually  receiving  six  or  twelve  numbers  at  one 
time.  His  chief  occupation  in  Paris  was  collecting 
with  great  care  and  diligence  a  library  of  choice  books, 
connected  with  his  favorite  studies  ;  in  the  purchase  of 
which,  he  spent  nearly  all  his  little  fortune.  He  thus 
remarks  upon  this  expenditure  in  a  letter  to  his  father  :  — 
"  If  I  should  be  cut  off  from  the  use  of  these  luxuries 
of  the  mind,  they  will  be  a  treasure  to  those  who  suc- 
27* 


318  PERIODICAL    LITERATURE. 

ceed  me,  like  the  hoards  of  a  miser  scattered  after  his 
death." 

This  library  of  three  thousand  volumes  was  unique  * 
in  its  character,  such  as  few  of  his  profession  could 
then  have  profitably  employed,  though  they  could  ap 
preciate  its  value  ;  and  it  was  always  as  accessible  for 
the  use  of  his  brethren  in  the  profession  as  for  his  own. 
It  was  certainly  characteristic  of  his  devotion  to  his 
favorite  studies,  that,  while  his  library  at  that  time  was 
more  valuable  than  that  of  any  private  individual  in 
Boston,  the  furniture  of  his  parsonage,  and  his  estab 
lishment  of  domestic  luxuries,  were  frugal  almost  to  the 
degree  of  inconvenience. 

'The  second  object  of  public  interest,  in  which  he  took 
a  most  active  part,  was  the  publication  of  periodical  lit 
erature.  He  was  one  of  the  principal  promoters  of  the 
Literary  Miscellany,  a  monthly  magazine,  conducted 
by  gentlemen  who  were  his  immediate  friends.  The 
first  number  was  published  in  July,  1803,  and  in  this 
was  printed  the  first  production  of  his  pen  which  was 
given  to  the  press,  a  review  of  u  Millar's  Retrospect 
of  the  Eighteenth  Century."  This  Miscellany  enjoyed 
but  the  short  life  of  one  year,  and  was  succeeded  by 
the  Monthly  Anthology,  of  which  a  full  account  has 
been  given  in  other  pages.  Ten  volumes  of  the  An 
thology  were  published,  in  all  of  which  there  were  pro 
ductions  of  more  or  less  value  from  his  pen.  In  1812, 
this  was  worthily  succeeded  by  the  General  Repository 
and  Review,  edited  by  Mr.  Norton.  This  was  intended 
as  the  vehicle  of  learned  discussions  and  responsible 
reviews  The  writer  cannot,  of  course,  speak  of  the 

*  See  Appendix. 


GRIESBACH'S  GREEK  TESTAMENT.  319 

merit  of  the  long  article  from  her  brother's  pen,  in  the 
second  number,  —  the  translation  of  a  learned  paper  in 
Schleusner's  Lexicon,  occupying  twenty-one  sheets  of 
letter-paper  in  his  handwriting.  It  shows  that  he  must 
have  nearly  left  the  sweet  and  varied  walks  of  general 
literature  for  the  thorny  paths  of  learned  criticism. 

In  this  year,  1808,  he  engaged,  in  conjunction  with 
his  friend,  Mr.  William  Wells,  and  under  the  patronage 
of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  in  the  publication  of 
Griesbach's  Greek  Testament,  containing  a  selection  of 
the  most  important  various  readings.  This  work  passed 
under  his  most  careful  revision,  in  the  course  of  which 
several  errors  in  the  original  were  discovered  and  cor 
rected. 

Mr.  William  Wells,  the  publisher  of  Griesbach, 
writes  :  — 

"  The  last  proofs  of  the  Cambridge  edition  of  the  Greek 
Testament  were  revised  by  him,  and  this  contributed  greatly 
to  its  extreme  correctness.  Not  the  smallest  mark  or  ac 
cent  escaped  his  penetrating  eye,  and  his  accuracy  often 
excited  much  surprise  in  the  printing  office.  He  was  ac 
tive  in  the  publication  and  distribution  of  Unitarian  books 
and  tracts,  and  contributed  largely  to  these  objects  from  his 
own  resources,  as  well  as  from  funds  supplied  by  his 
friends. 

"  I  believe  that  the  American  edition  of  Griesbach  may 
be  safely  said  not  to  yield  the  palm  of  accuracy  to  any 
which  has  been  published  in  Europe." 

A  letter  to  him  from  a  clergyman  in  England  says  :  — 

"  I  envy  the  American  press  the  honor  of  being  the  first  to 
reprint  that  valuable  edition  ;  and  the  more,  as  a  pocket 
edition  of  the  Greek  Testament  is  now  printing  in  England, 


320  GRIESBACH'S  GREEK  TESTAMENT. 

from  Griesbach's  second  edition,  which  will  therefore  want 
the  corrections  of  the  author,  which  are  inserted  in  your 
German  edition.  Yours  does  infinite  credit  to  the  American 
press." 

"  Proposals  were  also  issued  for  a  supplementary  volume 
to  Griesbach,  to  contain  an  English  translation  of  the  Prole 
gomena  to  his  large  critical  edition,  the  authorities  for  his 
variations  from  the  received  text,  and  some  dissertations, 
original  and  selected,  on  subjects  connected  with  the  criti 
cism  of  the  Bible.  Some  progress  was  made  in  preparing 
this  work  by  Mr.  Buckminster  and  one  of  his  friends,  but, 
as  he  did  not  give  his  name  to  the  proposals,  they  did  not 
receive  sufficient  encouragement  to  induce  him  to  persevere. 
In  1810,  he  formed  the  plan  of  publishing  all  the  best  mod 
ern  versions  of  the  prophetical  books  of  the  Old  Testament. 
He  proposed  to  use  the  version  of  Bishop  Lowth  for  Isaiah, 
with  the  various  renderings  of  Dodson  and  Stock  in  the 
margin  where  they  differ  from  Lowth.  The  major  proph 
ets  were  to  be  completed  by  Blayney's  version  of  Jeremiah 
and  Lamentations,  Newcome's  version  of  Ezekiel,  and 
Wintle's  of  Daniel,  with  Blayney's  of  the  Seventy  Weeks. 
Newcome's  translation  of  the  minor  prophets  was  to  have 
followed,  with  variations  from  Horseley's  Hosea,  Benjoin's 
Jonah,  and  Blayney's  Zechariah.  After  this,  he  hoped  to 
have  been  able  to  give  an  additional  volume,  containing  the 
most  important  notes  and  preliminary  dissertations  to  the 
several  books.  The  whole  design,  however,  I  am  almost 
ashamed  to  say,  failed,  for  want  of  a  sufficient  taste  for 
these  studies  among  our  countrymen."  * 

Of  another  and  more  important  change,  affecting  the 
relation  of  the  churches  to  each  other  and  to  society, 
the  introduction  of  views  of  Christian  doctrine  differing 

*  Thacher's  Memoir. 


CHURCHES    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.  321 

from  those  of  the  first  Puritan  churches,  the  writer  con 
ceives  that  this  is  not  the  place  to  speak,  except  so  far  as 
the  suhjects  of  these  memoirs  were  concerned  in  them. 
Every  one  the  least  acquainted  with  our  ecclesiastical 
history  must   be   aware   that   there   had  been,  from   the 
time  of  the   establishment  of  Brattle   Street  Church  in 
Boston,  a   gradual  relaxation   from  the  strict  Calvinism 
of  our  fathers.     Certainly  that  church,  when   it  agreed 
to  omit  all  relation  of  religious  experiences,  as  unessen 
tial  to   admission,    made  as  large    an   advance    towards 
liberality  as  has  been,  at   any  one  step,  effected   since. 
It  is  known  to  those  who  are  moderately  well   informed 
on   this  subject,  that,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  cen 
tury,  a  change  became  apparent  in  the  views  of  many 
of  the   clergy   of  New   England,    touching    those   doc 
trines  that  had  been  deemed  essential,  and  were  usually 
considered    orthodox.      This  change   was   gradual,   and 
almost  imperceptible.     It    did    not    amount  at  once  to 
the  adoption  of  distinct  anti-trinitarian  conceptions,  but 
the    tenecs    of   strict    Calvinism    lost    their    hold    upon 
the  minds  of  ministers  and  people,   and    the   orthodox 
creed  was  embraced  with  great  reservations.      Some  of 
the   prominent   ministers    of  the   churches   were   called 
"  Arminians,"     ''moderate     Calvinists,"     "  Arians." 
Had    not    political    events,    and    the  exigencies   of  the 
struggle   for  independence,  absorbed   the  whole   of  the 
educated   mind  of  the  country,  it   seems  as  though  that 
division    in    the    churches    must    have    inevitably    taken 
place  then,  which  was  postponed  half  a  century. 

The  change  in  theological  opinion  has  been  as  gradual 
as  most  other  changes,  and  the  result  of  free  inquiry  has 
been  a  new  growth,  the  healthful  development  from  the 
deep  roots  of  the  tree  of  life.  Calvinism  lost  its  hold 


322  LETTER    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

upon  the  minds  of  the  laity  quite  as  soon  as  it  failed 
to  satisfy  their  ministers.  "  It  had  died  down  to  the 
roots,"  as  a  late  writer  observes,  c<  before  the  axe  had 
touched  it."  The  evidences  of  its  powerless  and  in 
operative  state  were  lamented  by  its  friends  before  more 
simple  and  evangelical  views  of  the  religion  of  Christ 
brought  back  the  revolted  mind  of  the  churches  to  the 
doctrines  of  the  Bible,  rather  than  to  those  of  Calvin. 

The  following  letter,  written  by  Dr.  Buckminster 
fifty  years  ago,  in  answer  to  one  from  Dr.  Morse,  la 
menting  the  falling  off  of  the  ministers  from  orthodox 
preaching,  confesses,  also,  that  the  doctrines  of  Calvin 
affright  the  people  and  empty  the  churches.  It  dis 
closes  a  state  of  things  which  is  not  generally  acknowl 
edged  by  either  party,  —  that  the  people  took  the  lead  in 
liberal  views,  and  would  not  listen  to  Calvinistic 
preaching. 

;'  I  lament  the  state  of  things  to  which  it  appears  to  me 
a  departure  from  true  evangelical  principles,  and  a  silence 
respecting  the  peculiarly  humbling,  awakening,  and  affecting 
doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  in  the  public  teachers  of  it,  have 

contributed  their  full  share Is  it  not  too  true  that 

ministers  leave  the  humiliating  state  of  man  as  a  fallen  and 
apostate  creature,  his  helplessness  and  danger,  the  glorious 
character  of  Christ  as  a  DIVINE  person,  the  special  influences 
of  the  Spirit,  the  necessity  of  regeneration,  and  the  awful 
prospects  of  the  impenitent  and  unbelieving,  out  of  their 
public  discourses,  and  fill  them  with  philosophical  disquisi 
tions,  moral  essays,  and  popular  harangues?  I  don't  know 
but  many  may  do  this  from  an  honest,  but,  in  my  view, 
very  erroneous  apprehension,  that  it  will  serve  to  remove 
the  objections  of  some  amiable  moral  characters,  and  con 
ciliate  them  to  the  Gospel.  But  what  advantage  is  it  to 


TO    DR.    MORSE.  323 

conciliate  them  to  a  Gospel  that  is  not  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
and  fails  of  the  energies  necessary  to  make  them  holy  and 
happy  ?  It  appears  to  me  the  charges  and  descriptions, 
contained  in  that  most  excellent  treatise  of  Mr.  Wilberforce, 
are  as  applicable  to  us  as  to  the  country  for  which  he 
wrote.  Defects  in  principle  are  more  dangerous  and  de 
structive  than  in  practice.  They  are  like  a  disease  at  the 
heart.  A  diseased  limb  may  be  amputated ;  a  stream  pol 
luted  by  accidental  filth  in  its  channel  may  be  easily 
cleansed ;  but  where  the  fountain  is  impure,  all  labor  upofl 
the  stream  will  be  wholly  thrown  away.  The  fountain  must 
be  cleansed,  the  heart  must  be  healed.  If  ministers  are 
really  concerned  and  distressed,  and  would  seek  a  remedy, 
they  must  return  in  their  preaching  to  the  terrors  of  the 
law  and  the  grace  of  the  Gospel ;  they  must  preach  the 
plain  doctrines  of  revelation,  and  with  boldness  and  candor 
address  to  the  consciences  of  men  the  awful  and  the  alluring 
motives  therein  contained  ;  and  represent  sin,  as  it  is  most 
clearly  represented  in  the  Gospel,  as  such  an  evil  that  noth 
ing  short  of  the  interposition  of  a  DIVINE  person  could  atone 
its  guilt  oi  remove  its  malignant  effects.  Many  persons  ap 
prehend  that  such  preaching  would  affright  people  from  the 
Gospel,  and  empty  our  churches  and  religious  assemblies  at 
once.  Duty  is  ours,  events  are  God^.  We  must  preach 
the  preaching  that  God  bids  us,  and  appeal  to  the  law  and 
to  the  testimony.  The  truth  sanctifies  ;  error  may  please, 
but  it  cannot  profit. 

"  But  is  there  nothing  to  be  done  by  us  ?  we  may  ask. 
Those  who  fear  God  must  speak  often  to  one  another  upon 
the  things  of  God,  and  pray  most  earnestly  for  themselves 
and  brethren  ;  and,  as  the  high  priest  always  offered  for 
his  own  sins  before  he  did  for  the  sins  of  the  people,  would 
it  not  be  commendable  for  us  ministers  to  have  days  of 
private  social  fasting,  and  let  them  be  spent  as  days  of  real 
humiliation  and  not  of  conviviality  ?  Might  not  association 


324         THE    CHARGE    OF    CONCEALMENT    OF    OPINIONS. 

meetings  be  so  improved  ?  After  this,  we  might  with 
greater  confidence  and  hope  of  success  have  more  public 
seasons  of  prayer,  following  up  our  devotions  with  the  spirit 
of  divine  things  in  all  our  commerce  with  the  world. 

"  Dear  Sir,  1  should  need  to  make  an  apology  for  the 
freedom  with  which  I  have  written,  did  it  not  afford  the 
strongest  proof  of  the  entire  confidence  I  have  in  you,  as 
a  faithful,  sincere,  and  experienced  servant  of  Jesus  Christ. 
May  God  be  with  you  and  your  brethren,  and  direct  you 
in  the  subject  of  your  inquiries,  the  result  of  which  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  you  to  communicate  to  your  friend  and 
brother, 

"  J.    BUCKMINSTEH. 

"April  24th,  1799." 

The  above  letter  was  written  fifty  years  ago.  Does 
fa  not  imply  that  ministers  had  ceased  to  preach  the 
humiliating  doctrines,  that  is,  the  doctrines  of  Calvin 
ism,  and  that,  in  the  opinion  of  one  who  retained  this 
faith,  it  was  because  they  would  "  affright  people,  and 
empty  at  once  the  churches  and  religious  assemblies  "  ? 
It  is  more  honorable  to  all  the  ministers  of  Boston  and 
the  vicinity,  and  probably  more  true,  that  they  had  ceased 
to  believe  in  Calvinism,  and  therefore  ceased  to  preach 
it.  It  would  be  invidious,  and,  with  all  the  light 
thrown  upon  the  last  fifty  years,  it  would  be  unjust,  to 
say  that  any  continued  to  believe  in  Calvinism,  and  con 
cealed  their  faith  because  it  would  empty  their  churches. 
But,  as  it  has  been  so  often  asked  why  those  whose 
faith  in  orthodoxy  was  shaken  did  not  come  forward  at 
once  and  make  confession,  may  we  not  with  equal  perti 
nence  ask,  why  did  not  Calvinists,  who  continued  such, 
assert  their  sentiments  previous  to  the  conclusion  of  the 
last  century,  and  in  the  beginning  of  this  ?  One  of  their 


PURITAN    INFLUENCES.  325 

own  number  says  they  did  not,  and  we  are  justified  in 
saying,  either  that  they  concealed  their  sentiments  for 
fear  of  emptying  their  churches,  or  that  Calvinism  had 
lost  its  hold  upon  the  societies,  and  that  it  was  only 
as  the  faith  of  a  party  that  its  spirit  was  resuscitated. 

Of  the  younger  subject  of  this  memoir,  it  is  well 
known  that  his  earliest  years  were  spent  under  the  in 
fluences  of  Calvinism  ;  and,  however  its  stern  features 
may  have  been  softened  by  the  mingling  with  them  of  the 
aspect  of  paternal  love,  that  form  of  religion  was  asso 
ciated  with  all  his  tender  youthful  feelings  of  devotion. 
Whoever  has  passed  the  early  part  of  life  in  New  Eng 
land  can  hardly  fail  to  look  back  upon  some  one  of  his 
ancestors,  a  descendant  of  those  tl  strong-hearted  and 
God-fearing  "  Puritans,  who  has  been  to  him  the  vener 
able  type  of  Calvinistic  religion,  —  some  one  who  looked 
with  sad  or  stern  displeasure  upon  all  innovation  on 
the  Genevan  formulas,  and  upon  all  relaxation  of  the 
Puritan  discipline  of  life.  Conscientious  and  faithful  to 
his  first  convictions,  the  morning  and  evening  came  to 
him  burdened  with  prayers  for  the  sins  and  follies  which 
he  saw  everywhere  around  him.  His  belief  in  the  total 
depravity  of  his  fellow-men,  and  of  his  own  children,, 
was  strangely  at  variance  with  the  tenderness  of  his 
heart,  and  the  indulgence  of  his  hopefulness.  He  af 
firmed  that  the  grace  of  God  alone  could  change  the 
disposition  to  evil,  and  impart  a  saving  faith  ;  and  yet  the 
necessity  of  religious  culture  was  perpetually  reiterated, 
and  precept  upon  precept  was  followed  by  line  upon  line. 

It  was  under  such  influences   that  religion  descended 

like   the  dew  upon   Joseph's  childhood,  and  opened  in 

his  heart  the  blossoms  of  a  spiritual   faith,  and  a  tender, 

childlike  piety.     Calvinism  could  never  have  made  him 

28 


326  CHANGE    OF    RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS. 

gloomy,  nor  Puritanism  bigoted  and  ascetic.  But  as 
soon  as  he  began,  in  preparation  for  his  profession,  a 
careful,  impartial,  and  critical  study  of  the  Scriptures, 
without  seeking  in  them  for  the  support  of  previously 
received  opinions,  he  found  that  he  could  not  discover 
in  them  that  theology  which  had  been  the  support  and 
solace  of  so  many  hearts  among  his  ancestors.  While 
studying  at  Exeter,  he  seems  to  have  rejected  the  doc 
trine  of  total  innate  depravity,  and  other  tenets  connected 
with  it ;  and  although  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  was  ap 
proached  with  caution  and  reluctance,  yet,  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  he  writes  thus  to  his  father  :  —  "I  have  em 
ployed  almost  every  day  since  my  return  from  Ports 
mouth  in  reading  the  most  orthodox  works  upon  the 
Trinity,  —  Edwards,  Jamieson,  Ridgely,  etc.;  and, 
from  what  I  know  of  the  state  of  my  own  mind,  I  de 
spair  of  ever  giving  my  assent  to  the  proposition  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  God,  equal  to  the  Father.  I  have  been 
thus  explicit,  that,  whatever  may  be  my  future  lot,  I  may 
still  retain  the  consciousness  of  having  preferred  the  re- 
linquishment  of  every  prospect  of  fame  or  preferment  to 
the  slightest  evasion  or  hypocrisy  upon  subjects  deemed 
by  you  so  important." 

His  continued  study  upon  this  and  kindred  subjects 
resulted  certainly  in  a  wide  departure  from  strict  Cal 
vinism.  He  rejected  all  connection  with  the  tenets  of 
Socinus.  Socinianism,  which  admits  of  no  spiritual  aid 
in  the  perfect  obedience  to  law  which  it  demands,  could 
have  no  attraction  for  a  mind  so  early  imbued  with  a 
devout  longing  for  an  intimate  communion  with  God. 
He  became  afterwards  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
writings  of  English  Unitarians  ;  and  he  felt  unbounded 
respect  for  those  honest  men,  and  noble  confessors, 


DOCTRINAL    OPINIONS.  327 

who,  for  conscience'  sake,  gave  up  all  worldly  advance 
ment.  He  admired  their  philanthropy,  and  sympathized 
with  their  efforts  to  harmonize  Scripture,  reason,  and 
common  sense  ;  yet  he  did  not  belong  to  them.  It  does 
not  appear  that  he  wholly  sympathized  with  any  one 
of  the  divisions  by  which  Christians  were  classed  at 
the  beginning  of  this  century.  He  endeavoured  to  vin 
dicate  those  views  which  satisfied  his  own  earnest  efforts 
after  truth,  and  he  was  ready  to  cooperate  with  all  who 
strove  to  advance  a  spiritual  piety,  and  an  elevated 
standard  of  morals,  and  a  sincere  adoption  of  "the  new 
commandment  "  of  love.  Extracts  which  will  be  given 
from  some  few  of  his  sermons,  upon  points  of  doctrine, 
will  show  in  what  views  his  studies  had  resulted  at  the 
early  period  of  his  death.  The  labor  which  he  devoted 
to  anxious  inquiries  was  uncheered  by  sympathy  from 
his  father  ;  and  he  had  the  additional  sorrow  of  finding 
that  the  results  of  his  study  placed  him  in  painful  an 
tagonism  to  that  revered  friend  of  his  youth. 

At  the  period  of  his  settlement,  and  even  at  his 
death,  there  had  been  no  outward  and  marked  division 
in  the  churches.  In  the  Congregational  churches  of 
Massachusetts  there  had  been  no  uniform  confession  of 
faith.  Neither  the  churches  nor  the  ministers  were 
amenable  to  any  tribunal,  and  the  spirit  of  Congrega 
tionalism  had  left  every  minister  at  liberty  to  gather  his 
sentiments  and  opinions  from  the  only  rule  of  faith,  a 
conscientious  study  of  the  word  of  God.  The  differ 
ences  of  opinion,  which  must  necessarily  exist  among 
men  who  think  for  themselves,  had  not  arisen  to  such  a 
height  as  to  form  schisms  or  separations  of  churches. 
Trinitarians,  Arminians,  Calvinists,  Hopkinsians,  and 
Baptists  united  in  acts  of  Christian  fellowship.  At  or- 


328  CHANGE    IN    THEOLOGICAL    OPINIONS 

dinations  and  councils,  Dr.  Morse  and  Dr.  Channing, 
Dr.  Osgood  and  Dr.  Kirkland,  sat  side  by  side,  and 
were  associated  in  apparent  harmony  together.  This 
has  since  been  called  a  deceitful  show  of  union,  involv 
ing  a  disingenuous  concealment  of  opinions,  arising  from 
a  spirit  of  indifference  to  the  purity  of  doctrine,  and  an 
attachment  to  worldly  advantages.  To  some  minds,  it 
may  seem  to  have  been  a  prudent  and  generous  accom 
modation  to  the  spirit  of  brotherly  love,  and  that  it  did 
as  much  honor  to  the  ministers  of  Massachusetts  as  any 
thing  in  their  history.  While,  to  some,  it  may  appear 
that  the  true  doctrines  of  the  Church  were  sacrificed  in 
such  freedom,  others  will  be  persuaded  that  the  spirit  of 
Christian  fellowship,  and  the  only  true  Gospel  influences, 
were  advanced  ;  and  that,  if  dogmas  and  polemics  were 
kept  in  abeyance,  ministers  and  people  became  better 
Christians. 

It  was  certainly  honorable  to  those  who  thus  accorded, 
that  they  considered  the  things  in  which  they  agreed  as 
of  more  importance  than  those  in  which  they  differed, 
and  as  being  a  sufficient  ground  of  Christian  communion. 
It  was  thought,  also,  at  that  time,  that  a  man  might  be 
sincere,  if  erroneous,  and  capable  of  teaching  that 
which,  with  God's  blessing,  would  save  men's  souls,  if 
he  did  not  acknowledge  as  infallible  truth  all  the  so-called 
doctrines  of  the  Reformation.  And  this  honor  attaches 
to  all  parties  ;  for  each  minister  seems  secretly  to  have 
determined,  "  I  will  not  be  the  first  to  open  a  schism. 
I  will  stand  fast  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  has 
made  me  free,  and  those  who  abridge  this  liberty  are 
the  only  sectarians." 

It    has    been   made  a  frequent    subject  of  reproach, 
especially   at  the   present   time,   against   those  who  re- 


IN    THE    CHURCHES    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.  329 

jected  the  doctrines  of  orthodoxy,  among  whom  the 
younger  subject  of  this  memoir  is  recognized,  that  they 
did  not  come  out  and  make  proclamation  of  their  opin 
ions  upon  certain  points,  and  of  their  disagreement 
with  the  dogmas  of  Calvin.  What  has  just  been  said 
seems  a  sufficient  answer.  They  were  amenable  to  no 
one  for  their  opinions.  These  opinions  were  formed 
with  slow,  anxious,  and  painful  study,  and  there  was  no 
moment  in  the  process  of  their  laborious  investigation 
that  any  one  had  a  right  to  demand  a  confession  from 
them  of  their  progress  or  their  conclusions.  They 
were  accountable  to  their  own  consciences  only,  which 
required  them  to  preach  what  they  believed,  not  what 
they  did  not  believe.  Then,  parishes,  as  we  have  seen, 
were  sometimes  in  advance  of  the  ministers,  and,  in 
many  cases,  more  liberal  than  they.  From  the  peculiar 
bitterness  of  theological  divisions,  it  could  not  be  hoped 
that  such  a  slate  of  things  would  long  continue.  When, 
after  the  death  of  Eckley,  and  Emerson,  and  Buckmin- 
ster,  those  who  had  departed  from  the  faith  of  Calvin 
were  placed  in  antagonism  with  their  brethren,  they 
were  sufficiently  ready  to  defend  themselves  and  their 
position  ;  but  that  was  after  the  period  with  which  these 
memoirs  have  any  concern. 

The  only  public  hostility  which  Mr.  Buckminster  en 
countered  was  a  severe  attack  upon  a  small  collection  of 
hymns  prepared  for  the  use  of  the  Brattle  Street  Church. 
The  reviewer  charged  him  with  unauthorized  alterations, 
for  the  purpose  of  suppressing  certain  doctrines.  The 
hymns  were  adapted  to  particular  subjects  of  discourses, 
and  intended  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  Tate  and 
Brady's  version  ;  and  it  has  been  mentioned  in  another 
page  of  this  memoir  that  the  compiler  took  them  from 
28* 


330  LETTER    TO    MR.    BELSHAM. 

Dr.  Kippi's  selection,  and  was  ignorant  that  any  altera 
tion  had  been  made  in  them.  In  writing  to  Rev.  Mr. 
Belsham,  of  England,  at  this  time,  he  speaks  thus  of  the 
state  of  religion  in  Boston  :  — 

"  December  5th,  1809. 

"  The  most  exclusive  spirit  of  Calvinism  seems  now  re 
viving,  and  perhaps  gaining  ground,  in  Boston.  I  have  been 
exposed  to  some  of  its  deadliest  shafts  in  consequence  of  a 
little  collection  of  hymns,  unorthodox,  not  heterodox,  which 
I  have  made  for  the  use  of  my  society.  However,  we  shall 
stand  our  ground  very  firmly  in  Boston.  There  is  no  place 
on  the  face  of  the  globe  where  so  much  attention  is  paid 
to  ministers  by  all  ranks,  especially  by  the  most  enlightened. 
Those  very  men  who,  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  would 
probably  be  unbelievers  because  they  could  not  be  Calvin- 
ists,  are,  among  us  in  Boston,  rational  Christians,  —  the  most 
constant  supporters  of  public  worship,  the  most  intimate 
friends  of  the  clergy,  and  not  a  few  of  them  professors  of 
religion.  Our  only  danger  is  in  our  security  and  strength. 
4  In  such  an  hour  as  we  think  not,  sudden  destruction  may 
come  upon  us,'  but  I  think  there  is  a  root  of  rationality  and 
soberness  in  Boston,  which,  with  God's  blessing,  can  never 
fail  to  spring  up  and  flourish  here,  except  by  the  culpable 
indifference  of  its  cultivators 

"  I  am  in  general  much  pleased  with  Macknight.     I  need 
not  tell  you  that  the  great  difficulty  in  Paul's  Epistles  lies 
in  about  half  a  dozen  words.     If  I  could  settle  their  mean 
ing,  I  should  bless  God  all  the  rest  of  my  life. 
"  Yours,  with  the  highest  regard, 

"  J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER." 

Dr.  Eckley,  the  venerable  pastor  of  the  Old  South 
Church,  died  in  April,  1811  ;  and  it  was  in  the  follow 
ing  terms  that  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street,  who  was 
counted  in  the  van  of  the  advocates  of  liberal  views, 
spoke  of  him  the  Sabbath  after  his  interment  :  — 


CHARACTER    OF    DR.    ECKLEY.  331 

"  When  the  image  of  Dr.  Eckley  rises  to  my  thoughts, 
I  cannot  for  a  moment  suspect  that  the  regard  shown  to 
his  memory  was  the  dictate  of  form,  or  a  tribute  to  office 
or  to  age.  No  ;  it  was  the  tribute  which  virtue  pays  to  virtue, 
which  friendship  pays  to  friendship.  It  was  the  language 
of  undisguised  affection  and  esteem.  It  was  the  homage 
which  the  community,  even  when  most  corrupt,  will  always 
pay  to  a  heart  of  whose  goodness  it  is  sure.  True,  he  was 
a  faithful  minister ;  but  he  was  also  a  faithful  man ;  he  was 
respected  and  loved  in  every  place,  as  well  as  in  his  office. 

"  Those  who  were  his  coevals  and  his  long-tried  associ 
ates  bear  witness  to  his  faithfulness,  and  the  disinterested 
ness  of  his  friendships.  Those  of  us  who  were  younger 
in  the  ministry,  and  who  could  not  be  expected  to  form 
those  close  intimacies  which  was  the  privilege  of  those 
who  knew  him  early,  yet  cannot  speak  of  his  worth  with 
out  ardent  wishes  that  it  had  pleased  God  to  continue  him 
longet  to  us.  His  desire  to  preserve  a  Christian  fellow 
ship,  and  the  most  liberal  intercourse  with  his  brethren,  was 
too  well  known  to  be  doubted,  and  cannot  be  remembered 
without  gratitude  and  admiration.  Every  day  made  his 
life  valuable  to  us  as  a  friend  and  father,  a  mediator  in 
our  profession.  He  had  no  bitterness ;  no  uncharitable- 
ness  ;  no  desire  for  spiritual  authority ;  no  symptoms  of 
religious  pride ;  no  tendencies  to  an  exclusive  system  of 
Christianity.  He  was  indeed  a  man  who  loved  the  re 
ligion  of  Christ  wherever  it  existed,  and  who  loved  a  good 
man  in  whatever  denomination  he  found  him.  He  had 
the  reputation  of  what  is  often  called  orthodox  theology ; 
and  the  character  of  his  early  preaching,  arid  the  nature 
of  his  early  connections,  had  contributed  to  establish  the 
opinion  of  his  being  attached  to  a  creed  more  dogmatical 
than  was  received  by  many  of  his  contemporaries  and  suc 
cessors  in  the  ministry.  But  he  always .  evinced  a  most 
amiable  anxiety  to  manifest  his  superiority  to  those  prin- 


332  CHARACTER    OF    DR.    ECKLEY. 

ciples  of  exclusion  and  separation  which  some  men  think 
are  the  natural  consequences  of  his  belief.  I  do  not  be 
lieve  that  the  mere  circumstance  of  speculative  dissent  ever 
alienated  his  mind  from  a  single  human  being,  or  quenched 
the  warmth  of  his  ministerial  attachment  to  his  brethren. 
He  abhorred  a  selfish  spirit  in  religion  as  well  as  in  com 
mon  life.  Would  to  God  that  his  spirit  might  descend  upon 
us  in  all  its  generosity  and  purity !  for  as  long  as  the 
remembrance  of  him  remains  among  his  brethren  in  the 
ministry,  they  will  not  want  a  standard  of  Catholicism  by 
which  they  may  ascertain  what  spirit  they  are  of. 

"  There  was  also  a  great  simplicity  and  openness,  as  well 
as  purity  of  character,  in  Dr.  Eckley,  which  was  character 
istic  of  a  Christian,  in  whom  there  should  be  no  guile.  He 
was  a  man  who  had  no  hidden  and  private  purposes  to  serve, 
and  you  could  always  put  trust  in  him  without  anxiety ; 
and  I  may  safely  appeal  to  you  all  for  the  general  impres 
sion  which  prevailed  of  his  integrity  and  candor;  —  a.n  im 
pression  which  is  never  delusive,  and  which  no  man  can 
preserve  through  a  life  of  such  length  as  his,  without  de 
serving  the  character  he  has  gained.  This  is  that  honest 
testimony  which  public  and  private  sentiment  pays  to  a 
man  of  real  worth,  which  is  the  true  reflection  of  the  testi 
mony  of  a  man's  own  conscience,  and  is  worth  more 
than  all  the  eulogies  of  orators  and  all  the  forms  of 
mourning 

"  In  short,  Dr.  Eckley  seems  to  me  to  have  been  one  of 
those  men  whose  loss  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  supply.  He 
filled  a  place  which  few  men  are  so  happy  as  to  hold,  or 
to  be  able  to  fill,  between  the  extremes  into  which  minis 
ters,  who  are  of  like  passions  with  other  men,  are  contin 
ually  rushing.  It  was  impossible  not  to  respect  him ;  and 
many,  many  will  confess  with  a  sigh,  that  they  loved  him, 
—  they  were  not  prepared  to  lose  him  ;  and  his  affection 
ate  spirit  was  fled  before  we  could  bid  it  farewell ;  and  long, 


VARIETIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    OPINION.  333 

long  will  it  be  before  we  can  replace  him !  It  would  have 
been  grateful  to  us  to  witness  the  disposition  of  his  mind 
while  departing, — to  have  received  his  parental  regards, — 
to  have  expressed  our  respect  and  affection  to  so  advanced 
and  worthy  a  brother ;  but  God,  in  whose  hands  are  the 
issues  of  life,  determined  otherwise,  and  we  know  that  He 
is  wise  and  gracious,  and  that  He  has  some  good  purpose  to 
serve  by  this  truly  afflictive  dispensation.  He  is  gone  to  his 
long  home,  and  the  mourners  go  about  the  streets ;  yet  thy 
presence,  O  God,  has  gone  with  him  and  given  him  rest !  " 

There  was  felt,  by  the  older  ministers  of  the  Boston 
Association,  —  by  Dr.  Eckley,  Dr.  Lathrop,  and  Dr. 
Osgood,  —  the  greatest  reluctance  to  break  the  ancient 
harmony  of  the  churches.  As  each  one  had  formed 
his  opinions  through  a  sincere  desire  for  truth,  guiding 
his  search  in  the  Scriptures,  they  were  unwilling  to  in 
sist  upon  any  other  centre  of  union,  or  any  other  standard 
of  truth,  except  the  Scriptures.  As  Calvinism  was  re 
nounced,  different  aspects  of  dissent  appeared,  accord 
ing  to  the  character  of  each  mind  in  which  it  had  lost 
its  authority.  In  some,  as  an  intellectual  protest  against 
incomprehensible  doctrines  ;  in  others,  as  a  plea  against 
dogmatism  ;  and  in  many,  as  a  desire  for  a  more  simple, 
and  spiritual,  and  reasonable  faith.  There  was  but  one 
point  upon  which  the  liberal  party  were  united,  —  the  re 
jection  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  ;  to  admit  the  per 
sonal  Godhead  of  Christ  was  to  them  impossible.  Upon 
no  other  subject  co  uldthey  have  agreed  in  an  issue.  Up 
on  the  doctrines  of  the  atonement,  the  supernatural  influ 
ences  of  the  Spirit,  the  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures, 
so  much  did  they  differ,  that  they  probably  would  not 
have  held  together.  On  these  subjects,  some  of  the 
liberal  party  would  have  been  found,  at  the  time  of 


334  ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST. 

which  we  speak,  on  the  side  of  orthodoxy.  How  futile, 
then,  is  the  charge  against  them,  that  they  concealed 
their  sentiments  because  they  were  not  prepared  for 
acts  of  decision  !  Both  parties  deprecated  that  religious 
warfare  which  would  estrange  parish  from  parish,  broth 
er  from  brother,  and  bring  into  the  tenderest  hearts  the 
most  acute  distress.  But,  now  that  it  is  passed,  every 
one  must  acknowledge  that  the  area  of  the  warfare  has 
been  enriched.  A  more  thorough  and  critical  investi 
gation  of  the  Scriptures  is  demanded ;  a  deeper  and 
more  fervently  religious  spirit  is  cultivated  in  all  the 
churches  ;  and  a  more  general  knowledge  of  theology 
and  kindred  subjects  pervades  the  whole  community. 

Some  extracts  from  unpublished  manuscript  sermons 
follow  ;  — and  here  it  should  be  distinctly  remarked,  that 
although  Mr.  Buckminster  is  ranked,  and  justly,  among 
Unitarians,  yet  he  never  took  the  name  upon  him 
self,  nor  used  it  as  a  distinctive  term,  significant  of  his 
own  faith.  He  was  not  a  sectarian  in  feeling,  nor  a 
controversialist  in  practice.  He  possessed  nothing  of 
the  odium  theologicum,  which  has  sometimes  shown  it 
self  since  his  death.  Those  who  belong  to  opposite 
parties  in  the  Church,  though  they  may  differ  from  the 
conclusions  to  which  he  came  in  applying  the  rules 
of  criticism  to  the  interpretation  of  the  sacred  writers, 
have  ever  done  justice  to  the  candor  and  honesty  of 
mind  displayed  in  his  critical  and  theological  discus 
sions. 

"ON    THE   CHARACTER   OF   CHRIST. 

"  *  The  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God.'  —  Mat.  xvi.  16. 

"  When  we  receive  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  we  receive  him 
as  he  has  himself  repeatedly  explained  the  character,  and 


RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS.  335 

as  it  is  announced  in  the  prophecies  to  which  he  has  him 
self  appealed  ;  —  as  the  Son  of  God  ;  the  Holy  One  of  God  ; 
the  Sent  of  God ;  the  Anointed,  the  Sanctified  of  God  ;  —  in 
short,  to  comprise  in  one  expression  of  our  Saviour's  the 
whole  of  the  sentiment  contained  in  the  reception  of  Jesus 
as  the  Christ,  it  is  to  honor  the  Son  as  he  honors  the  Father ; 
his  authority  and  that  of  the  Father  is,  to  the  Christian,  co 
incident  and  identical. 

"  In  this  explanation  of  that  article  of  faith  on  which  all 
our  Christianity  is  built,  there  appears  to  me  nothing  am 
biguous  or  difficult.  To  receive  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  it  is 
neither  necessary  that  we  should  understand  the  concep 
tions  of  that  character  as  they  existed  in  the  minds  of  the 
Jews,  nor  that  we  should  know  the  whole  signification  of 
the  meaning  included  in  the  phrase  '  Son  of  God ' ;  but  that 
we  should  take  the  explanations,  as  far  as  we  can  under 
stand  them,  which  our  Lord  himself  has  given  us  of  his 
character,  and  receive  him  as  clothed  with  the  authority  of 
God.  Let  me  but  know,  let  me  be  convinced,  that  any  sen 
timent,  law,  promise,  or  declaration  is  Christ's,  and  it  is  to 
me,  a  Christian,  the  word  of  God, —  the  word  of  the  Father 
which  the  Son  has  revealed. 

"  Among  those  who  have  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  our 
religion,  and  who  claim  to  be  its  supporters,  great  diversity 
of  opinion  prevails  as  to  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  You 
will  find  many  making  the  Son  of  God  not  their  teacher, 
their  leader,  their  model,  and  their  judge,  but  a  kind  of  inter 
mediate  protection,  a  screen  from  the  justice  of  the  Father. 
They  are  ready  to  receive  him  as  a  propitiation,  a  security, 
a  sacrifice,  a  substitute ;  as  one  on  whose  mercy  they  repose 
to  shelter  them  from  the  fury  of  the  Deity ;  but  not  as  the 
King  whose  laws  they  ought  to  obey,  whose  spirit  they 
must  imbibe,  and  whose  steps  they  must  follow.  They  rep 
resent  to  themselves  Jesus  as  one  who  has  suffered  all  the 
punishment  due  to  the  sinner,  and  whose  righteousness 


336  ON    THE    CHARACTER    OF    CHRIST. 

is  to  be  imputed  to  them.  His  blood,  they  imagine,  has 
washed  them  from  their  pollutions,  and  his  sufferings  have 
paid  an  infinite  satisfaction  for  their  sins.  As  Jesus  is,  in 
their  opinion,  the  Infinite  and  Almighty  Deliverer,  they 
seem  to  think,  that,  if  by  a  single  act  of  faith  they  have 
got  him  upon  their  side,  they  have  no  more  to  fear,  and 
are  released  from  the  penalties  which  their  iniquities  de 
serve.  I  hope,  my  Christian  hearers,  that  I  need  not 
caution  you  against  these  abuses,  or  tell  you  that,  whatever 
may  be  the  personal  dignity  of  your  Saviour,  you  cannot 
attain  to  final  salvation  without  repentance  for  your  sins, 
a  pure  faith  in  his  religion,  and  true,  steadfast,  unreserved 
obedience  to  his  Gospel. 

"  What,  then,  is  the  idea  that  the  sincere  and  intelligent 
Christian  entertains  of  Jesus  Christ,  —  he  who  confesses  with 
his  whole  heart  that  he  is  the  Christ^  the  Son  of  the  living 
God  ?  He  does  not  perplex  himself  with  fruitless  inquiries 
into  the  precise  nature  of  that  relation  which  subsisted  be 
tween  Jesus  on  earth  and  the  Supreme  Deity ;  he  does  not 
disturb  his  mind  with  endeavouring  to  explain  the  manner 
in  which  he  was  the  Son  of  God,  nor  the  precise  boundaries 
between  his  nature  and  that  of  the  Father.  No ;  it  is  to 
him  of  much  more  importance  to  ascertain  the  relation  in 
which  Jesus  stands  to  himself,  —  what  Jesus  is  to  him  and  he 
to  Jesus.  He  receives  without  difficulty  the  declaration 
which  Jesus  has  made  of  himself  as  the  only-begotten  Son 
of  the  Highest;  he  views  him  as  enjoying  the  most  intimate 
union  with  the  Deity,  full  of  his  energy  and  spirit ;  his  visi 
ble  likeness  on  earth  ;  the  express  image,  among  men,  of  the 
Supreme,  whom  no  mortal  eye  hath  seen,  or  can  see.  He 
receives  him  as  the  expected  object  of  ancient  prediction, 
ordained  to  appear,  to  diffuse  blessings  and  life  over  the 
world.  He  who  knows  him,  knows  the  Father.  He  who 
honors  him,  honors  the  Father  who  sent  him.  To  the  faith 
ful  Christian,  Jesus  is  the  restorer  of  human  integrity  and 


REGENERATION.  337 

happiness ;  able  to  reform  and  to  lead  us  to  God.  He  is 
the  Mediator  who  brings  us  nearer  to  God  ;  and  proclaims 
the  peace  and  pardon,  and  imparts  the  blessings  of  the  New 
Covenant.  He  is  the  Deliverer  from  sin  and  death ;  the  Sa 
viour  ;  the  Prince  of  Life.  The  Christian  looks  to  him  as 
the  great  leader,  whose  steps  he  is  to  follow,  whose  char 
acter  he  is  to  resemble,  whose  decision  he  is  to  await.  He 
looks  to  him  as  the  head  of  the  Christian  community,  to 
whom  all  authority  is  committed,  to  whom  is  due  entire 
submission  and  obedience,  and  who  will  become  wisdom 
and  righteousness,  sanctification  and  redemption  to  those 
who  will  obey  him.  He  is  indeed,  like  Thomas,  on  the 
recognition  of  the  Saviour,  ready  to  exclaim,  '  My  Lord  and 
my  God  ! '  " 

"UPON    REGENERATION. 

11 '  Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 
John  iii.  3. 

"  It  is  not  enough,  Nicodemus,  that  you  should  visit  me 
in  the  secresy  of  the  night  to  declare  your  belief  in  my 
Divine  authority  ;  for  except  a  man  be  born  again,  of  water 
and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  —  except  you  openly  profess  my  re 
ligion  and  your  heart  be  transformed  into  the  spirit  of  my 
Gospel,  —  you  cannot  be  a  subject  of  the  kingdom  I  am  about 
to  establish 

"  Nicodemus,  either  intentionally  or  ignorantly  misunder 
standing  our  Saviour,  supposes  him  to  mean  a  repetition  of 
man's  natural  birth.  '  How  can  a  man  be  born,'  says  he, 
'  when  he  is  old  ? '  This  mistake  leads  our  Saviour  to  ex 
plain  with  more  particularity  the  nature  and  course  of  the 
moral  change,  or  new  birth.  i  The  wind  bloweth  where 
it  listeth  and  thou  nearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst 
not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  nor  whither  it  goeth  :  so  is  every 
one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit.'  The  changes  and  revolu 
tions  of  the  human  mind  mock  the  eye  of  sense  in  their 
progress.  They  are  known  only  by  their  effects.  The 
29 


338  REGENERATION. 

operations  of  God's  Spirit,  —  the  influence  of  causes  that 
change  the  whole  character,  that  produce  a  revolution  like 
that  of  a  new  birth,  are  silent  as  the  wheels  of  time.  You 
hear  not  its  footsteps,  you  see  not  its  passing  form,  but  the 
effects  are  momentous  and  eternal.  Your  mind  is  raised 
to  a  purer  atmosphere  ;  your  thoughts  reach  a  more  exalted 
height ;  you  better  understand  your  relation  to  God  and 
Christ,  and  the  holy  duties  that  result  from  your  new  birth. 
"  Look  back,  my  hearers,  upon  your  lives,  and  observe 
the  numerous  opinions  that  you  have  adopted  and  dis 
carded,  the  numerous  attachments  you  have  formed  and 
forgotten,  and  recollect  how  imperceptible  were  the  revo 
lutions  of  your  sentiments,  how  quiet  the  changes  of  your 
affections.  Perhaps,  even  now,  your  minds  may  be  passing 
through  some  interesting  processes,  your  pursuits  may  be 
taking  some  new  direction,  and  your  character  may  soon  ex 
hibit  to  the  world  some  unexpected  transformation.  Compare 
with  this  the  spiritual  regeneration  of  the  heart.  So  is 
every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit.  Perhaps  the  following 
may  not  be  an  imperfect  description  of  the  process  that 
takes  place  in  a  mind  which  is  the  subject  of  a  radical  con 
version.  The  motion  of  the  wind  is  unseen,  its  effects  are 
visible ;  the  trees  bend  and  fields  are  laid  waste ;  though 
the  altering  sentiments  and  affections  are  unnoticed,  the  al 
tered  character  obtrudes  itself  upon  our  observation.  Truths, 
before  contemplated  without  concern,  now  seize  the  mind 
with  a  grasp  too  firm  to  be  shaken.  The  world  which  is 
to  succeed  the  present  is  no  longer  a  subject  of  accidental 
thought,  of  wavering  belief,  or  lifeless  speculation ;  a  region 
to  which  no  tie  binds  us,  and  which  no  curiosity  leads  us 
to  explore.  To  the  regenerated  mind,  the  character  and 
condition  of  man  appears  in  a  new,  an  interesting  light. 
To  a  being  whose  existence  has  but  just  commenced, 
death  is  only  a  boundary,  a  line,  that  marks  off  the  first, 
the  smallest  portion  of  existence.  Earth  with  her  retinue 


REGENERATION.  339 

of  allurements,  her  band  of  fascinating  syrens,  exclaims, 
4  We  have  lost  our  hold  on  this  man  !  He  is  no  longer  ours  ! ' 
Religion  welcomes  her  new  adherent ;  she  beckons  him 
to  turn  his  steps  into  a  new,  a  pleasanter  path  ;  and  God  him 
self  looks  down  from  heaven  with  complacency  and  love, 
illuminating  his  track  by  the  light  of  his  countenance,  mark 
ing  the  first  step  he  takes  in  religion,  and  supporting  him  by 
the  staff  of  his  grace,  the  aid  of  his  Holy  Spirit 

44  2d.  But  what  means  does  the  Spirit  of  God  use  to 
effect  this  regeneration,  to  form  this  character,  to  cherish 
this  life  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man  ?  On  this  subject  much 
has  been  spoken  and  written  mystically,  much  unintel 
ligibly,  much  absurdly,  and  much  falsely.  It  has  been 
said,  with  daring  impiety,  that  the  more  profligate,  profane, 
and  corrupted  the  character,  the  more  probable  is  its  regen 
eration,  that  God  may  show  to  an  astonished  world  what 
wonders  his  grace  can  effect.  Every  age  has  been  deluded 
with  accounts  of  the  physical  and  mechanical  operations 
of  the  Spirit,  so  that  we  should  probably  suppose  it  to  be 
some  subtle  fluid,  instantaneous  and  irresistible  in  its  effects. 
But  in  the  whole  course  of  Scripture  history,  comparing  a 
period  of  thousands  of  years,  not  an  instance  can  be  found 
of  the  use  of  violent  means  for  the  production  of  a  merely 
moral  change.  Should  the  conversion  of  Paul  be  alleged, 
as  it  ever  is,  to  support  the  cause  of  enthusiasm,  let  it  once 
for  all  be  considered  that  it  is  a  solitary  instance,  and  in  an 
age  abounding  with  miracles ;  and  secondly,  that  the  public 
and  instantaneous  change  of  such  a  man,  who  was  an  enemy 
to  the  faith,  added  to  the  weight  of  testimony  in  favor  of 
Christianity  a  wonderful  fact,  which  cannot  be  accounted 
for  except  in  supposition  of  the  truth  of  the  history  of  Jesus, 
and  it  thus  gives  a  peculiar  propriety  to  the  mode  of  conver 
sion  in  this  case 

"  But  as  long  as  it  is  easier  to  fall  down  in  swoons,  to 
start  in  convulsions,  and  to  groan  in  distress,  than  to  reno- 


340  REGENERATION. 

vate  and  purify  the  heart,  —  as  long  as  it  is  possible  to  gain 
belief  to  professions  of  an  instantaneous  change  without 
showing  the  gradual  operation  of  the  Spirit  in  the  progres 
sive  reformation,  increasing  holiness  and  goodness,  of  the 
character,  —  so  long  will  the  cause  of  Christ  be  dishonored, 
the  minds  of  the  good  disturbed,  and  the  ear  of  the  infi 
del  delighted,  by  pious  delusions  and  solemn  extrava 
gances 

"  '  Sanctify  us  by  thy  truth  ;  thy  word  is  truth,'  says  the 
Gospel.  '  Those  who  are  born  again,'  says  Peter,  '  are  born 
not  of  corruptible  seed,  but  of  incorruptible,  by  the  word 
of  God.'  At  this  word  the  proudest  hearts  have  bowed, 
and  consciences  encased  in  mail,  invulnerable  to  the  feeble 
weapons  of  philosophy  and  unchristianized  morality,  have 
been  pierced  to  the  quick,  and  sought  the  only  remedy 
for  their  wounds  in  the  balmy  blessings  of  the  Gospel  of 
peace 

u '  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born 
again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.'  The  necessity 
of  this  new  birth  appears  from  the  nature  and  condition 
of  rnan.  We  wish  not  to  enter  into  the  consideration  of  the 
doctrine  of  original  sin,  depravity,  or  the  imputation  of  sin. 
Leaving  these  terms  of  theology,  look  round  only,  we  entreat 
you,  on  the  world  in  which  we  live  ;  see  it  deformed  by 
corruption,  spotted  by  pollution  ;  see  it  full  of  men  buried 
in  sinful  pursuits  and  enslaved  to  innumerable  lusts  that  war 
against  the  soul.  The  first  objects  that  engage  the  dawning 
mind  of  the  child  are  objects  of  sense.  That  which  is  born 
of  the  flesh  is  flesh.  It  is  a  selfish,  sensual  creature,  igno 
rant  of  its  Creator,  of  its  destination ;  uninclined  to  the 
purity,  the  spirituality,  the  power  of  religion  ;  alienated  from 
the  life  of  God,  the  life  of  the  soul !  Unrenewed  by  the 
influence  of  religious  truth,  undirected  by  the  guiding  hand 
of  an  Almighty  Father,  how  shall  such  a  creature  reach 
the  regions  of  immortal  bliss  ?  Is  it  enthusiasm,  is  it  folly, 


THE    ATONEMENT.  341 

is  it  hypocrisy,  to  say  to  such  a  creature,  '  You  must  be  born 
again  before  you  can  see  the  kingdom  of  God '  ?  Is  that 
Redeemer  to  be  disclaimed  who  offers  you  his  Divine  aid 
to  form  anew  your  character,  to  exalt  your  affections,  to  en 
lighten  your  dreary  and  desolate  understanding  ?  Would  it 
not  be  a  contemptuous  abridgment  of  the  bounty,  and  an 
ungrateful  restriction  of  the  meaning,  of  the  Saviour,  to  sup 
pose  that  he  intended  to  confine  his  assertion  of  the  neces 
sity  of  this  regeneration  to  the  Jews  or  Gentiles  of  that  age  ? 
Reflect,  it  is  not  with  Nicodemus  only,  but  with  us,  he  is  con 
versing  ;  and  if  our  lips  declare  '  We  know,  Master,  thou 
art  a  teacher  sent  from  God,'  to  us  he  still  replies,  'Verily,  I 
say  unto  you,  you  S.re  not  my  disciples  till  you  are  regen 
erated  ;  till  you  have  imbibed  my  'Spirit,  you  cannot  in 
herit  my  future  and  immortal  empire.' " 

"UPON  THE  ATONEMENT. 

"  '  In  whom  we  have  redemption  through  his  blood.'  — Col.  i.  14. 

[After  enumerating  the  various  ways  in  which  the 
death  of  Christ  is  spoken  of  in  the  Scriptures,  the  nature 
and  meaning  of  sacrifices  among  the  Jews,  &c. :  — ]  "  In  the 
second  place,  I  propose  to  state  to  you,  in  general,  some 
of  the  ideas  which  Christians  have  entertained  on  the  sub 
ject  of  the  death  of  Christ.  Here  you  will  immediately 
perceive  that  a  plain  line  of  distinction  must  necessarily 
be  drawn  between  those  who  receive  the  language  of  Scrip 
ture  on  this  subject  in  a  literal  sense  and  those  who  give 
it  only  a  figurative  interpretation.  Of  the  ideas  of  the  lat 
ter,  I  may  say  in  general,  that  they  imply  such  a  diminution 
of  the  strict  meaning  of  language  as  is  hardly  consistent 
with  any  commonly  received  notion  of  inspiration.  They 
suppose  the  death  of  Christ  was  described  in  sacrificial 
terms,  borrowed  from  the  Old  Testament,  in  order  to  rec 
oncile  the  Jewish  Christians  to  the  simplicity  of  the  new 
dispensation,  and  enable  them  to  find  something  in  Chris- 
29* 


342  THE    ATONEMENT. 

tianity  answering  to  the  sacrifices,  oblations,  priests,  and  cere 
monies  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed  under  the  old 
dispensation.  If,  however,  the  sacrifices  under  the  Mosaic 
dispensation  had  any  expiating  efficacy,  and  the  Apostles 
believed  that  they  had,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  death 
of  Christ,  which  they  represented  as  supplying  their  place, 
should  be  so  described  in  mere  accommodation  to  the  idea 
of  the  Jews,  unless  it  in  truth  contained  something  of  a  simi 
lar  or  superior  nature.  These  Christians,  therefore,  believ 
ing  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  sin  which  may 
not  be  pardoned  upon  repentance,  believe,  too,  of  course, 
that  sacrifices  which  had  been  considered  as  necessary  to 
the  acceptableness  of  repentance,  were 'neither  in  truth  of 
any  intrinsic  value,  nor  had  they  any  reference  to  the 
great  atonement  which  they  have  been  said  to  prefigure. 
But  if  there  is  nothing  really  propitiatory  in  the  practice  of 
sacrifices,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  account  for  the  idea 
which  has  universally  prevailed  of  their  necessity  in  order 
to  secure  the  favor  of  God,  and  not  less  difficult  to  account 
for  their  origin  and  prevalence  in  the  world.  They  suppose, 
also,  that  the  intention  of  the  Mosaic  expiations  did  not  re 
gard  the  moral  element,  but  only  ceremonial  uncleanness, 
or  something  equally  unimportant ;  that  they  had  no  refer 
ence  to,  or  pre figuration  of,  the  death  of  Christ,  and,  of 
course,  that,  whatever  value  they  possessed,  they  did  not  de 
rive  it  from  that  great  sacrifice,  foreordained  in  the  counsels 
of  Heaven.  In  one  word,  they  take  it  for  granted  that  the 
death  of  Christ  is  described  in  these  sacrificial  terms,  not 
because  it  really  possessed  an  expiatory  efficacy,  or  an 
efficacy  similar  to  that  belonging  to  the  Jewish  sacrifices, 
but  because  there  were  circumstances  in  the  one,  to  which 
they  could  find  something  parallel  in  the  other.  You  will 
easily  perceive  how  much  this  reduces  the  literal  meaning 
of  the  language  of  the  Scriptures,  and  will  perhaps  say  that 
it  leaves  as  many  difficulties  unaccounted  for  as  the  system 
of  those  who  adopt  the  literal  meaning. 


THE    ATONEMENT.  343 

"  In  direct  opposition  to  this  latitudinarian  explanation, 
and  at  the  other  extreme,  is  the  system  of  those  who  con 
sider  the  death  of  Christ  as  that  great  event  upon  which  the 
pardon  of  the  world  depends,  and  without  which  no  person 
living,  whatever  his  character  may  be,  short  of  entire  inno 
cence,  can  be  rescued  from  eternal  condemnation  and  mis 
ery,  which  is  the  positive  punishment  to  be  annexed  in  a 
future  life  to  the  smallest  transgression. 

"  The  notions  of  sin,  on  which  their  system  is  founded, 
are  these  :  —  The  least  deviation  from  the  laws  of  God  is 
either  an  infinite  evil,  or  such  an  infinite  dishonor  to  his 
character,  that  it  cannot,  consistently  with  God's  justice,  or 
the  nature  of  things,  be  forgiven  simply  upon  repentance, 
without  some  satisfaction  equivalent  to  the  dreadfulness  of 
the  evil.  Some,  however,  disdain  as  presumptuous  the  as 
sertion  that  God  cannot  forgive  the  offences  of  men  without 
some  scheme  of  atonement,  and  only  maintain  that  it  was 
inconsistent  with  his  attributes  and  character  to  forgive  sin 
upon  mere  repentance,  or  in  any  other  manner.  Under 
this  idea,  therefore,  that  there  was  something  of  vicarious 
atonement  in  the  death  of  Christ,  without  which  sin  was  un 
pardonable,  they  explain  the  origin  of  sacrifices,  and  the 
notions  of  mankind  respecting  their  efficacy.  They  sup 
pose  that  sacrifices  were  originally  instituted  by  God  in 
reference  to  this  great  and  final  sacrifice,  and  this  only  gave 
them  their  significance  and  value.  They  suppose  that  un 
less  the  death  of  Christ  is  considered  as  a  real  expiation, 
no  well-grounded  hope  can  be  entertained  by  any  man  of 
deliverance  from  the  future  and  everlasting  punishment  of 
his  sins ;  and  of  course  they  maintain  that  all  the  repre 
sentations  in  Scripture  relating  to  this  subject  convey  the 
idea  of,  and  require  the  belief  of,  a  true  and  proper  atone 
ment. 

"  It  is  true  that,  upon  this  scheme,  there  is  some  difficulty 
in  reconciling  the  phrases,  which  represent  Christ  some- 


344  THE    ATONEMENT. 

times  as  the  priest,  and  sometimes  as  the  sacrifice  ;  and 
which  attribute  the  efficacy  of  his  mediation  sometimes  to 
his  example,  sometimes  to  his  death,  at  others  to  his 
resurrection,  and  in  others  to  his  intercession.  Upon  the 
whole,  therefore,  they  are  willing  to  admit  that  all  that 
Christ  did  and  suffered  is  to  be  taken  into  the  account ;  that 
his  obedience  altogether  constitutes  the  equivalent  satisfac 
tion,  without  which  it  was  impossible  for  the  sins  of  man 
kind  to  be  forgiven. 

"  Between  these  two  views  of  the  subject  many  others 
have  been  invented  by  theologians,  giving  up  or  retaining 
more  or  less  of  the  peculiarities  of  each.  These  I  have 
not  time  or  inclination  to  detail  to  you.  In  order,  however, 
to  arrive  at  just  conceptions  of  the  nature  of  our  redemp 
tion,  and  to  avoid  the  extravagances  into  which  systematic 
theologians  have  fallen,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  mind  the 
following  principles  :  —  In  considering  the  character  and 
conduct  of  our  God,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  separate  any 
one  of  his  attributes  from  the  others,  his  mercy  from  his 
justice,  or  his  justice  from  his  mercy.  This  would  be  to  re 
duce  his  nature  to  our  limited  conceptions.  His  attributes 
are  all  harmonious,  and  his  nature  one  great  impulse  to 
ward  what  is  best.  Hence,  if  we  contemplate  his  mere 
justice,  apart  and  unmodified  by  any  other  quality,  we  must 
in  truth  consider  our  relation  to  him  in  the  light  of  debt 
and  credit;  and  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  it  may  be  said, 
indeed,  that  he  could  not  forgive  an  offender,  till  some  ade 
quate  satisfaction,  beside  mere  repentance,  was  provided, 
to  render  it  proper  to  be  propitious.  But  the  light  in  which 
reason  and  Christianity  represent  God  is  that  of  a  parent. 
Now  a  parent,  however  disposed  he  may  be  to  forgive  a  dis 
obedient  child,  may  yet  think  it  highly  proper  not  to  receive 
him  into  favor,  upon  his  mere  symptoms  of  returning  affec 
tion  ;  but  may  rest  his  acceptance  on  some  condition,  which, 
though  not  strictly  indispensable,  may  yet  be  extremely 


THE    ATONEMENT.  345 

proper,  to  impress  the  child  more  strongly  with  the  crime  of 
his  disobedience,  and  operate  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  the 
offence.  Such  is  the  light  in  which  we  ought  to  consider 
the  method  which  God  has  adopted,  in  declaring  his  dispo'- 
sition  to  forgive  his  offending  children  of  the  human  race. 
Again:  whatever  may  have  been  the  real  efficacy  of  the 
death  of  Christ,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  change  of 
disposition  is  wrought  upon  God.  His  nature  is  immutable, 
and  his  purposes  are  originally  benevolent.  The  object  of 
the  Scripture  representation  is  to  operate  upon  ourselves. 
Till  the  effect  is  produced  upon  ourselves,  the  propitiation 
of  our  Saviour,  however  great  or  powerful,  is  of  no  avail 
to  our  redemption. 

"  Keeping  in  view,  then,  the  parental  character  of  God, 
and  the  object  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  let  us  always  con 
sider  that  the  method  which  God  has  chosen,  to  declare  and 
to  dispense  his  pardon,  is  unquestionably  the  wisest  and  best. 
You  may  ask  why  God  could  not  have  explicitly  declared, 
that,  upon  the  sincere  repentance  of  a  sinner,  he  was  ready 
to  receive  him  into  favor,  without  connecting  it  in  any  way 
with  the  sacrifice  of  so  illustrious  a  person  as  the  Son  of 
God  ;  I  answer,  I  know  not.  I  know  only,  that  God  has 
chosen  another  method,  which  he  undoubtedly  thought  more 
effectual  and  proper.  I  may  answer  you,  too,  by  proposing 
a  parallel  example.  If  you  ask  me  why  God  could  not 
have  effected  his  purpose  of  bringing  life  and  immortality 
to  light,  by  simply  assuring  us  of  it  upon  his  bare  authority, 
without  coupling  it  with,  or  making  it  depend,  as  he  has 
done,  on  the  resurrection  of  his  Son,  I  can  only  answer, 
because  he  has  thought  the  latter  method  more  effectual.  It 
was  unquestionably  better  calculated  to  influence  the  belief 
of  the  contemporaries  of  our  Lord  to  show  them  the  fact  of 
a  person's  rising  from  the  dead,  than  any  mere  declaration 
of  a  future  existence  could  have  been.  In  the  same  man 
ner,  he  has  thought  it  better  to  assure  the  world  of  the  par- 


346  THE    ATONEMENT. 

don  of  sin,  by  setting  before  their  eyes  the  great  sacrifice 
of  Jesus,  and  directing  their  attention  to  it  in  this  light,  than 
merely  by  a  simple  declaration  of  his  placability.  If  these 
remarks  are  properly  considered,  I  think  we  shall  be  more 
disposed  to  acquiesce  in  the  method  which  God  has  chosen  ; 
and,  instead  of  presumptuously  declaring  what  he  might 
have  done,  w.e  shall,  with  humility,  endeavour  to  derive 
from  the  Scripture  account  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  mo 
tives  of  gratitude  and  consolation,  and  a  deep  abhorrence  of 
those  sins  which  occasioned  this  scheme  of  suffering  and 
death. 

"  III.  I  proceed,  therefore,  with  more  pleasure,  to  the 
third  head  of  my  discourse,  in  which  I  proposed  to  consider 
the  practical  considerations  suggested  by  the  death  of  Christ. 

"1.  In  the  first  place,  it  leads  us  to  the  most  exalted  and 
touching  conceptions  of  the  mercy  of  God.  My  dear 
friends,  have  you  ever  looked  into  your  own  hearts,  and 
compared  them  with  the  purity  of  God  ?  [lave  you  ever 
considered  that  it  is  mercy  and  unmerited  and  perfectly 
gratuitous  forbearance  only  in  your  Creator  which  has  con 
tinued  you  yet  in  life,  and  withheld  from  you  that  punish 
ment  which  your  ingratitude  and  your  unworthiness  have 
deserved  ?  What  was  it  but  compassion,  which  could  hold 
out  to  creatures  like  us  the  hope  of  the  future  friendship  of 
the  pure  Being,  who  cannot  behold  iniquity,  even  the  most 
secret  and  unobserved,  without  abhorrence  ?  And  what  but 
the  most  unbounded  benignity,  far  beyond  the  ordinary 
standard  by  which  we  estimate  goodness,  would  have  pro 
vided  a  dispensation  by  which  such  unpretending  and  worth 
less  men  as  we  are  may  aspire  to  eternal  felicity  and  im 
provement?  Have  you  considered,  also,  the  dreary  and 
benighted  state  of  the  world,  on  the  subject  of  pardon,  be 
fore  the  appearance  of  Christ  ?  the  horrible  notions  which 
prevailed  of  the  Divinity,  the  dread  of  his  justice,  the  inex 
pressible  fears  and  horrors  with  which  futurity  was  invested, 


THE    ATONEMENT.  347 

the  tremendous  sacrifices  with  which  the  Deity  was  propiti 
ated,  the  heart-rending  doubts  which  prevailed  in  the  purest 
and  most  enlightened  minds  on  the  subject,  as  to  the  Divine 
placability  ?  Whenever  a  good  man  reaches  that  last  hour, 
when  the  world  shrinks  into  nothing  in  his  sight,  and,  in 
stead  of  it,  when  all  his  sins  and  imperfections  rise  up  in  fear 
ful  array  before  him,  —  when  his  conscience  tells  him  what 
he  has  deserved,  but  holds  out  no  certain,  sure,  and  pacify 
ing  method  of  obtaining  pardon  and  relief,  —  then  it  is  that  he 
may  learn  to  estimate  the  mercy  of  the  Gospel  dispensation. 
Then,  when  he  is  looking  round  for  some  promises  of  pardon, 
the  method  of  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  presents 
itself  as  an  inexpressible  consolation,  and  he  blesses  God  for 
the  hope  of  his  Gospel !  He  now  regards  everything  which 
Jesus  has  suffered  as  a  pledge  from  God  of  the  security  of 
his  gracious  promise.  Every  other  expiation,  oblation,  cere 
mony,  however  expensive,  or  however  awful,  he  sees  to  be 
worse  than  ineffectual,  —  even  impious.  In  .this  state  of 
mind  his  philosophy  deserts  him.  He  receives  with  humili 
ty  and  joy  the  redemption  held  out  by  Jesus.  He  sees  in 
Jesus  the  compassionate  character  of  God,  and  he  sees  it 
clearly  nowhere  else.  He  is  no  longer  disposed  to  inquire 
into  the  minute  relations  of  everything  which  he  sees  in  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ;  but  he  embraces  the  simple  declaration 
that  God  is  in  Christ,  and  reconciling  the  world  unto  him 
self,  not  imputing  unto  men  their  trespasses.  He  sees 
enough  of  the  character  of  God  in  the  simple  fact,  that  he 
has  given  the  world  an  encouragement,  by  the  death  of  so 
pure  and  spotless  a  victim,  that  the  access  to  God  is  open, 
and  the  hope  of  pardon  a  hope  to  which  he  may  aspire. 
He  will  feel  unable  to  express  his  gratitude  to  the  Father 
of  mankind,  that  he  has  not  left  them  in  distressing  igno 
rance,  in  all  the  horrors  of  unexpiated  guilt ;  but  whatever 
assurance  can  possibly  be  afforded  to  unworthy  creatures  is 
contained  in  the  scheme  of  redemption  which  God  has 


348  THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION. 

chosen,  to  display  his  benignity.  '  Herein  is  love,  not  that 
we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be 
the  propitiation  for  our  sins.'  v 

The  extracts  which  follow  are  from  the  last  sermon, 
except  two,  which  my  brother  ever  wrote.  The  sermon 
was  written  in  the  April  previous  to  his  death,  and  may 
be  understood  to  express  his  last  opinions. 

"  '  What  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life  ?  '  —  Luke  x.  25. 

"  We  have  the  authority  of  the  Saviour  to  answer  the 
question  in  one  invariable  manner  :  '  If  thou  wouldst  enter 
into  life,  keep  the  commandments.''  But  here  a  question 
arises,  whether  it  be  possible,  from  the  nature  and  con 
dition  of  man,  perfectly  to  keep  the  commands  of  God  ? 
If  not,  how  can  .this  be  the  condition  of  human  salvation  ? 
We  answer,  that,  though  there  should  not  be  a  just  man 
upon  earth,  who  sinneth  not,  it  alters  not  the  requisitions  of 
the  Divine  law.  Since,  in  speaking  of  God,  we  must  make 
use  of  human  language,  of  what  are  called  forensic  terms, 
we  may  observe  that  it  is  the  very  nature  of  law,  and  in 
deed  of  every  rule,  to  require  the  most  exact  conformity. 
The  law  of  God,  like  every  other,  when  considered  simply 
as  law,  provides  no  dispensations,  and  exposes  every  of 
fender,  even  in  the  minutest  degree,  to  punishment.  It 
would  not  be  law,  indeed,  if  it  did  not.  But  though  the 
Scriptures,  and  the  systems  of  theologians,  in  different 
places,  represent  the  moral  government  of  God,  over  his 
imperfect  creatures,  under  two  different  aspects,  of  a  cov 
enant  of  works  and  a  covenant  of  grace,  of  pure  law  and 
pure  mercy,  as  if  they  were  opposite  and  irreconcilable  prin 
ciples  ;  yet  we  should  beware  of  contemplating  the  char 
acter  of  God  as  consisting  of  attributes  at  war  with  one 
another,  but  rather  should  we  consider  it  in  the  whole  as  one 
great  impulse  toward  what  is  best.  It  is  impossible,  indeed, 


THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION.  349 

from  the  nature  of  the  case,  to  admit  that  God's  law,  as  it  is 
called,  requires  anything  short  of  perfect  obedience.  This 
we  cannot  allow,  while  we  continue  to  talk  of  God  in  terms 
of  human  legislation  ;  it  is  the  unavoidable  consequence  of 
the  application  of  the  language  of  men  to  the  ways  of  God. 
Yet  when  we  say,  that  God  requires  from  every  man  an  obe 
dience  absoluteJy  sinless,  we  know,  at  the  same  time,  that 
he  provides  for  the  pardon  of  transgressors  on  their  repent 
ance. 

"  The  parental  character  is  that  in  which  God  has  ever 
delighted  to  exhibit  himself;  and  it  was  to  display,  con 
firm,  and  establish  on  the  surest  grounds  this  parental  char 
acter  of  God,  that  the  Son  of  God  came  into  the  world. 
The  dispensation  of  Christianity  proceeds  altogether  on  this 
view,  and  any  other  dispensation  toward  such  a  nature  as 
man's  would  be  absolute  cruelty  and  injustice.  If  men 
choose  to  say  that  this  favor,  or  grace,  or  mercy,  toward 
offenders,  or  by  whatever  name  it  may  be  called,  was  ob 
tained  by  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  or  is  dispensed  on  the 
ground  of  his  propitiation,  it  comes  to  the  same  thing  ;  be 
cause,  for  the  original  appointment  of  this  mocle  of  accept 
ance,  we  must  still  revert  to  the  precious  love,  or,  in  other 
words,  to  the  parental  character  of  God. 

"  Further,  if  it  should  be  asked  whether  any  human  be 
ing  has  ever  attained  to  this  sinless  conformity  to  the  Di 
vine  commands,  we  answer,  No  ;  for  this  would  imply  that 
some  one  of  our  race  had  reached  that  point  of  perfection, 
beyond  which  improvement  was  impossible,  —  a  supposition 
inconsistent  with  our  present  condition  as  a  state  of  proba 
tion,  contrary  to  all  the  representations  of  Scripture,  and 
to  all  our  experience  of  human  character. 

"  What!  then,  you   will   say,  has  no  human  being  ever 

merited  the  gift  of  eternal  life  ?     We  answer,  Certainly  he 

has  not.     For  it  is  the  very  nature  of  the  Gospel,  that  it 

is  a  dispensation  of  grace,  that  its  great  benefit  cannot  be 

30 


350  THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION. 

claimed  as  a  debt,  but  is  bestowed  in  consequence  of  a 
gracious  promise.  Yet  it  is  no  less  true  that  the  sincere 
and  uniform  endeavour  to  do  what  God  requires,  and  re 
pentance  for  failures  and  transgressions,  which  is  followed 
by  amendment,  may  be  called  the  eternal  condition  of  ever 
lasting  life,  because  the  character  and  declarations  of  God 
have  explicitly  made  them  such  under  the,  dispensation  of 
Christianity. 

"  But  it  may  again  be  asked,  if  our  final  acceptance 
with  God  depends,  not  on  absolute  and  sinless  perfection, 
but  on  that  sincerity  of  disposition  and  endeavour  which 
produces  prevailing  obedience  and  continual  progress  in 
virtue,  how  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  be  sure  of  eternal 
life,  or  to  know  whether  he  is,  at  any  one  time,  in  a  state  of 
salvation  ? 

"  I  answer,  in  the  first  place,  that,  if  men  desire  to  know 
what  precise  amount  of  holiness  will  rescue  them  from  per 
dition,  the  very  question  implies  that  they  have  not  the  true 
principle  of  religious  obedience,  and,  if  there  be  any  an 
swer  to  be  given  to  such  a  question,  it  is  most  wisely  con 
cealed  from  \is,  for  the  very  notion  of  true  obedience  is  in 
consistent  with  such  an  inquiry. 

"  In  the  second  place,  to  the  sincere  Christian  the  answer 
would  be  useless;  for  whatever  assurance  he  might  at  one 
time  indulge,  yet,  as  long  as  he  remains  a  probationary 
creature,  liable  to  relapse,  and,  consequently,  obliged  to 
watchfulness  and  exertion,  the  assurance  of  salvation  at  any 
particular  period  would  be  injurious  or  deceitful.  All  that 
we  should  desire  or  expect  to  attain,  is  a  well-grounded 
hope  of  our  acceptance  with  God,  as  the  reward  of  unre 
served  obedience,  of  unfeigned  repentance,  of  daily  prog 
ress  in  Christian  virtue.  This  is  the  hope  which  maketh  not 
ashamed,  for  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  the  heart. 

"  Another  mistake  of  the  terms  of  acceptance  with  God 
is  to  rely  upon  faith  only  for  salvation.  This  has  generally 


THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION.  351 

been  rather  a  verbal  than  a  material  error,  and  was  in  former 
times  more  dangerous  than  now  ;  for  a  defect  of  faith,  in  the 
subject  of  Christianity,  is,  at  the  present  day,  far  more  com 
mon  than  too  great  confidence  or  credulity.  But,  as  this 
mistake,  like  many  others,  is  still  founded  on  the  sound  of 
certain  passages  of  Scripture,  let  us  hear  what  is  so  often 
quoted  from  the  favorite  Apostle  on  this  subject.  '  By 
grace,'  says  he,  '  ye  are  saved  through  faith ;  and  a  man  is 
justified  by  faith  without  the  deeds  of  the  law.'  Does  Paul, 
then,  mean  to  declare,  that  bare  belief  in  Jesus  Christ,  with 
out  repentance  and  obedience,  can  secure  to  any  man  the 
gift  of  eternal  salvation  ?  Let  his  brother  Apostle  answer, 
as  he  has,  in  terms  which  nothing  can  render  more  explicit: 
'  What  does  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  say  he  have  faith,  and 
have  not  works  :  Can  faith  save  him  ?  No  ;  faith  without 
works  is  dead,  being  alone.' 

"  Another  mistake  of  the  terms  of  acceptance  with  God  is 
found  among  those  who  profess  to  rely  solely  upon  the  merits 
of  Christ.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  men,  who  have  never 
evinced  any  sentiments  of  religion,  or  given  any  satisfac 
tory  evidence  of  repentance  and  reformation,  using  this  too 
familiar  language  :  '  For  does  not  an  Apostle  assure  us,' 
say  they,  c  that  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus 
Christ  the  righteous,  who  is  a  propitiation  for  our  sins,  and 
not  for  ours  only,  but  for  the  whole  world  ?  '  But  for  what 
sins,  my  Christian  friends  ?  For  those  which  we  have  not 
forsaken,  or  of  which  we  have  not  repented  ?  For  those 
sins  which  we  every  day  commit,  without  remorse  and  with 
out  consideration  ?  Suppose  the'  merits  of  Christ  to  be  in 
finite,  incalculable.  Can  they  supply  our  sinful  omissions 
of  duty  ?  Christ  has  done  nothing  for  the  unrepenting  sin 
ner.  Christ  can  do  nothing  for  the  presumptuous  sinner, 
whose  reliance  on  a  Savidar's  merit  is  thought  sufficient  to 
excuse  him  from  any  obedience  or  virtue  of  his  own. 

"  The  application  of  Christ's  righteousness  to  ourselves 


352  THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION. 

is,  in  truth,  a  phrase  altogether  unscriptural.  The  word  of 
God  conveys  no  such  meaning  as  the  phrase  bears  in  the 
mouth  of  an  irreligious  man.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the 
worth  of  our  Saviour's  life  and  character  is  beyond  all  esti 
mate,  and  his  obedience  unto  death  was,  in  the  sight  of  God, 
inexpressibly  precious  ;  but  never  can  this  worth  become 
ours,  except  so  far  as  we  repent  and  forsake  our  sins,  and 
imitate  his  life  and  obedience  ;  and  whatever  may  be,  in 
the  sight  of  God,  the  efficacy  of  his  death,  never,  never  let 
it  be  imagined  that  it  is  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  which  we 
still  retain,  the  sins  which  we  will  not  forsake! 

"  Again.  Do  we  rely  for  salvation  on  the  effectual  and 
miraculous  operation  of  God's  Spirit,  pleading  our  inability 
to  render  that  obedience  which  God's  law  requires  ?  Take 
care,  my  friends,  that  you  do  not  misunderstand  this  abstract 
and  difficult  subject. 

u  If  we  mean  only,  that,  without  his  powerful  energy  and 
continual  support,  we  could  neither  live,  nor  act,  nor  think, 
this  indeed  is  well.  If  we  mean,  that,  without  his  gracious 
instruction,  encouragement,  and  blessing  on  our  exertions, 
we  could  neither  contend  with  our  lusts,  correct  our  habits, 
reform  our  lives,  or  make  progress  in  the  divine  life,  all  this 
is  undeniable.  But,  if  we  go  further  than  this,  if  we  im 
agine  our  inability  to  do  what  is  good  is  such  that  it  is  not  at 
any  time  in  our  power  to  cease  to  do  evil,  but  that  we  may 
plead  this  impotency  in  defence  of  our  sins,  the  very  sug 
gestion  only  shows  the  strength  of  our  evil  habits,  the  great 
ness  of  our  corruption,  and  the  extreme  danger  of  our  situ 
ation. 

"  But  does  not  an  Apostle  say,  '  We  are  not  sufficient  of 
ourselves,  but  all  our  sufficiency  is  of  God  '  ?  He  does. 
But  for  what  were  these  early  converts  not  competent  ?  To 
perform  what  God  had  required  oY  them  ?  To  render  obe 
dience  to  his  laws,  and  devote  themselves  to  his  service  ? 
Surely  not.  The  Apostle  has  here  reference  to  those 


THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION.  353 

miraculous  powers  with  which  his  brethren  were  furnished 
for  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel.  He  is  comparing  the 
total  inadequacy  of  the  natural  means,  by  which  the  astonish 
ing  work  was  accomplished,  with  the  greatness  of  the  effect. 
He  has  not  the  remotest  reference  to  the  common  ability  of 
man  to  do  the  will  of  God,  to  lead  a  life  of  obedience  and 
holiness. 

"  The  inability  of  man,  by  whatever  name  we  call  it,  is  no 
greater  in  the  affairs  of  religion  than  in  any  other  case,  ex 
cept  so  far  as  it  is  the  consequence  of  his  own  peculiar  de 
pravity.  If,  indeed,  it  were  an  original,  total,  and  universal 
incapacity  for  religion,  —  if  there  were  in  us  no  powers  which 
could  be  called  into  exercise  by  the  various  means  of  grace 
afforded  us,  no  natural  capacity  of  being  affected  by  the 
motives  presented  to  us,  —  the  whole  system  of  facts,  doc 
trines,  promises,  and  threatenings  in  the  Gospel,  were  a 
cumbrous  and  unnecessary  provision,  and  God  has  taken 
the  superfluous  care  to  persuade  us  to  exert  ourselves,  and 
strive  for  that  which,  by  a  single  motion  of  his  will,  he 
might  have  done  for  us  instantly,  effectually,  completely, 
and  which.,  according  to  the  theories  of  some  Christians,  he 
must  still  do  for  us,  by  the  extraordinary  and  irresistible 
operation  of  his  Spirit." 


30* 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

ORDINATION    OF    MR.    PARKER,  AT    PORTSMOUTH.  —  DR.    BUCK- 

MINSTER'S     FRIENDSHIP     FOR     HIM.  —  j.    s.    BUCKMIN- 
STER'S    HOUSEKEEPING  WITH  HIS    SISTER    IN  BOSTON.  — 

LETTERS  FROM  DRS.  SPRAGUE,  PIERCE,  AND  ABBOT. DR. 

WORCESTER. 

1808.  THERE   were  other  interesting  occurrences 

Aged  24.     of  the    year    j808?    which    bave    been    omjuec]? 

because  it  was  desirable  to  present  the  sketch,  however 
imperfect  it  may  be,  of  the  beginning  of  the  Unitarian 
controversy,  and  the  participation  that  Mr.  Buckminster 
had  in  preparing  the  way  for  the  changes  that  have  taken 
place  in  society,  by  themselves.  He  was  called,  indeed, 
to  put  off  his  armor  before  the  heat  and  burden  of  the 
conflict  began.  Hitherto,  his  profession  had  led  him  to 
the  most  noble  and  interesting  studies,  to  the  cultivation 
of  the  best  sympathies  of  his  heart,  and  to  the  unembar 
rassed  pursuit  of  truth.  He  had  been  the  advocate  of 
no  party,  and  there  might  have  been  a  fear  that  his  mind 
would  have  suffered  by  a  too  exclusive  application  to 
the  studies  that  would  have  fitted  him  to  take  his  in 
evitable  part  in  the  theological  warfare  of  the  great 
struggle  that  was  just  beginning. 

Unitarianism  had  at  this  time  developed  only  rational 
and  critical  powers.  It  had  been  an  intellectual  protest,  a 
plea,  against  dogmatic  theology.  It  had  not  yet  touched 


ORDINATION    OF    MR.    PARKER.  355 

the  inward  springs  that  open  the  rich  fountains  of  imagina 
tion,  of  devotional  fervor,  and  Divine  love.  His  was  of 
that  class  of  minds  which  would  have  soonest  felt  that  the 
simple  faith  of  Unitarians  is  most  intimately  united  with 
a  depth  of  spiritual  feeling,  a  height  of  sublime  devotion, 
and  a  divine  beauty  of  character,  unsurpassed  by  any 
other  faith  ;  and  his  sermons,  as  well  as  the  numerous 
prayers  that  he  has  left,  show  that  he  already  knew  and 
felt  that  union. 

The  year  1808  was  also  fraught  with  deep  interest  to 
Dr.  Buckminster,  in  his  more  retired  circle  of  duties  in 
Portsmouth.  There  had  always  existed  an  intimate 
connection  between  the  north  and  south  parishes  in 
that  place.  Dr.  Haven,  the  venerable  pastor  of  the 
south  parish,  had  died  in  1806.  He  had  been  like  a 
father  to  Mr.  Buckminster,  when  he  first  came,  a 
stranger,  to  Portsmouth,  and  there  had  ever  continued  a 
close  and  intimate  ministerial  union  between  them.  In 
1808,  the  Rev.  Nathan  Parker  was  invited  to  settle  over 
the  south  church,  and  his  ordination  took  place  in  the 
September  of  that  year. 

Mr.  Parker  was  of  the  new  or  liberal  school  of  the 
ology,  and  Dr.  Buckminster,  as  we  have  seen,  had  be 
come  more  strictly  orthodox  as  he  advanced  in  life. 
But  one  of  the  most  valuable  traits  of  Mr.  Parker's 
character  was  honesty,  —  honesty  in  the  fullest  and  most 
honorable  sense  of  the  word.  tc  He  was  imbued  with  a 

|| 

love  of  truth,  exhibiting  itself  in  singleness  of  purpose  and 
sincerity  of  manner.  There  was  no  appearance  of  guile 
in  him  ;  he  did  nothing  for  effect.  He  was  direct  and 
independent."  He  had  also  the  deepest  religious  con 
victions,  and  the  utmost  sincerity  of  love  to  his  Divine 
Master.  Dr.  Buckminster  could  not  fail  instantly  to 


356  DR.    BUCKMINSTERS    FRIENDSHIP    FOR    HIM. 

appreciate  these  noble  qualities,  so  congenial  also  to 
his  own  feelings  of  truth.  They  met  therefore  with 
conscious  sincerity,  with  full  and  entire  confidence. 
By  an  open  and  frank  avowal  of  his  sentiments,  Mr. 
Parker  secured  the  lively  esteem  of  Dr.  Buckminster, 
and  every  succeeding  interview  only  served  to  strength 
en  the  attachment  of  the  one,  and  the  almost  filial  rever 
ence  and  respect  of  the  other.  Dr.  B.  was  absent  at 
the  ordination  of  Mr.  Parker,  and  took  no  part  in  the 
services.  But  cc  I  rejoice,"  said  he,  lc  that  the  South 
Parish  have  such  a  minister  ;  he  is  an  honest  young 
man,  devoted  to  his  profession  ;  he  will  be  a  staff  to 
me  in  my  declining  years."  And  they  ever  lived  to 
gether  like  intimate  and  confidential  friends. 

The  widow  of  one  of  the  deacons  of  the  south 
church,  having  heard  whispers  of  heresy  against  "  the 
new  young  man,"  waited  upon  Dr.  Buckminster  as  soon 
as  he  returned  from  the  journey,  and  asked  him  if  she 
had  not  better  leave  the  heretical  minister  and  join  his 
own  church,  where  she  would  hear  a  sounder  doctrine. 
u  Stay  where  you  are,"  said  he  ;  "if  you  practice  as 
well  as  Mr.  Parker  preaches,  you  will  not  need  to  go 
anywhere  else." 

The  union  of  the  two  parishes  continued  uninterrupt 
ed.  The  two  pastors,  the  elder  and  the  younger,  were 
usually  companions  at  all  ministers'  meetings,  ordina 
tions,  and  occasions  of  professional  excursion  ;  and  Dr. 
Buckminster  always  came  home  exhilarated  by  the  cheer 
ful  intercourse  of  a  younger  and  fresher  mind.  Certainly 
the  acquisition  of  such  a  friend  and  companion  as  Mr. 
Parker  contributed  more  to  his  happiness,  in  the  few 
remaining  years  of  his  life,  than  any  other  circumstance 
that  attended  them.  Theirs  was  a  beautiful  example 


PRESIDENT    APPLETON.  357 

of  a  union  in  the  spirit  of  their  Master,  which  merged 
all  speculative  differences  of  opinion  in  a  superior  love 
to  him,  and  attachment  to  his  cause. 

The  year  preceding  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Parker, 
the  circle  of  his  ministerial  associates  and  friends  had 
been  much  weakened  by  the  removal  of  Dr.  Appleton 
from  Hampton  to  become  the  President  of  Bowdoin 
College,  thus  depriving  the  Piscataqua  Association  of 
one  of  its  most  distinguished  members,  and  Dr.  Buck- 
minster  of  the  cordial  intercourse  of  a  beloved  friend. 
The  diversity  of  opinion  and  unity  of  feeling  in  that 
Association  has  been  already  mentioned  ;  but  Dr.  Buck- 
minster  and  Dr.  Appleton  were  not  only  united  in  the 
bonds  of  a  warm  personal  regard,  but  in  speculative 
opinion  they  came  as  near  as  any  two  minds  of  different 
mental  endowment  could  come,  to  the  same  views  of 
controverted  subjects.  They  were  both  impressive 
preachers,  but  they  differed  extremely  in  their  mode 
of  delivering  truth.  Dr.  Appleton  was  never  impas 
sioned,  but  he  imparted  to  his  sermons  the  force  of  his 
own  convictions,  and  his  eloquence  and  his  arguments 
were  irresistibly  convincing  to  the  understanding.  Dr. 
Buckminster's  sermons  were  rarely  argumentative  ;  his 
manner  was  impassioned,  his  eloquence  persuasive, 
rather  tending  to  excite  emotion  and  alarm  conscience 
than  to  place  the  subject  within  the  grasp  of  the  in 
tellect. 

These  two  friends  spent  much  time  together,  and, 
after  their  separation,  kept  up  a  frequent  intercourse 
by  letter.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  correspondence 
was  not  preserved. 

There  may  appear  to  the  reader  some  discrepancy 
and  inconsistency  in  the  accounts  that  have  been  given 


358  VARIATION    IN    DR.    BUCKMINSTER'S 

of  Dr.  Buckminster's  feelings  at  different  times  with 
regard  to  his  own  religious  views.  It  may  appear  some 
what  surprising,  that,  after  being  acquainted  with  so  much 
diversity  of  opinion  in  the  Piscataqua  Association,  he 
should  have  regarded  his  son's  deviation  from  orthodox 
views  with  so  much  surprise  and  displeasure  ;  and  again., 
that,  at  a  later  period,  he  should  have  looked  upon  Mr. 
Parker's  settlement  with  so  much  leniency,  if  not  com 
placency.  It  must  he  remembered  that  it  was  only 
upon  two  points  that  his  son's  heresy  excited  surprise  : 
the  denial  of  the  Trinity,  the  assertion  of  the  inferi 
ority  of  the  Son  to  the  Father,  and,  consequently,  an 
inadequate  atonement  for  sin.  In  his  father's  words, 
—  tc  He  did  not  believe  the  proper  Deity  and  Divinity 
of  Christ,  nor  his  vicarious  satisfaction  and  atonement 
for  the  sins  of  men." 

It  does  not  appear,  and  I  believe  it  is  a  fact,  that 
there  was  no  denial  of  the  Trinity  in  the  Piscataqua 
Association  before  the  introduction  of  Mr.  Parker  into 
its  number.  If  there  had  been,  his  settlement  would 
not  have  been  discussed  and  opposed  as  it  was,  by  some 
members  of  the  Association.  It  was  also  Mr.  Parker's 
noble  personal  character,  his  unusual  talents  and  graces 
as  a  minister,  that  won  Dr.  Buckminster's  warmest  es 
teem  and  friendship  before  he  was  settled  in  the  South 
Parish  in  Portsmouth.  Dr.  Buckminster,  not  wishing 
to  oppose  his  settlement,  and  being  too  conscientious 
to  take  a  part  in  it,  embraced  the  excuse  that  the  fail 
ing  health  of  one  of  his  daughters  presented,  to  take 
a  journey,  and  absent  himself  from  the  ordination. 

Although  always  a  sincere  follower  of  Calvin,  his 
religious  views  were  greatly  modified  by  the  state  of 
his  health.  When  he  was  struggling  with  nervous  de- 


RELIGIOUS    IMPRESSIONS.  359 

pression,  his  religious  feelings  were  deepened  into  gloomy 
views  of  sin,  and  of  the  depravity  of  the  heart,  and  the 
unworthiness  of  man. 

At  the  time  his  son  was  beginning  to  preach,  the  life 
of  his  beloved  wife  was  just  drawing  to  a  close,  and  his 
spirits  were  greatly  depressed  ;  while,  on  the  contrary 
Mr.  Parker's  settlement  took  place  at  a  period  in  Dr. 
Buckminster's  life  when  he  enjoyed  an  unusual  degree 
of  health  and  freedom  from  depression.  Such  a  re 
sult  of  nervous  hypochondria  is  not  at  all  unusual.  The 
writer  is  intimately  acquainted  with  the  case  of  a  lady, 
who  is  subject  to  seasons  of  great  nervous  depression. 
When  she  is  in  good  health,  she  is  a  decided  Unitarian  ; 
but  as  soon  as  her  disease  returns,  she  is  overwhelmed 
with  the  fears  and  the  gloom  of  Calvinism. 

Soon  after  my  brother's  return  from  Europe,  he  had 
undertaken  the  task  of  housekeeping  by  himself.  He 
had  found  inconveniences  in  boarding,  and  the  parish, 
with  their  usual  liberality,  had,  while  he  was  absent, 
added  a  new  story,  and  thoroughly  repaired  the  parson 
age-house.  He  furnished  his  rooms  with  a  frugality  little 
in  accordance  with  the  splendor  of  his  library.  He 
grudged  every  expense  that  was  not  devoted  to  the  in 
side  or  the  outside  of  a  book  :  the  latter,  indeed,  bore  no 
proportion  to  the  former.  He  spent  little  in  elegant  bind 
ings,  although  he  deprecated  the  avarice  which  should 
diminish  the  mere  luxury  of  literature.  He  soon  found 
that  his  experiment  of  housekeeping  involved  him  in 
petty  cares  and  vexatious  troubles,  which  none  but  the 
feebler  sex  can  bear  with  exemplary  patience.  His 
incessant  occupation,  his  nightly  protracted  studies, 
and  the  precarious  state  of  his  health,  caused  his  friends 


360  THE    SISTER    OF    J.    S.    BTJCKMINSTER. 

to  regard  him  with  trembling  interest,  and  excited  the 
most  lively  anxiety  in  his  father,  till  he  at  length  yielded 
to  the  incessant  solicitations  of  the  brother,  and  consented 
that  his  eldest  sister  should  join  him  in  Boston,  and  take 
the  place  of  the  head  of  his  family.  He  hoped  that 
having  a  sister  with  him  would  insensibly  lead  him  to 
relaxation  from  his  midnight  studies,  and  induce  him  to 
give  more  time  to  social  and  domestic  pleasures. 

The  reluctance  of  Dr.  Buckminster  to  allow  his 
daughters  to  leave  the  retirement  of  home  has  been 
already  mentioned.  He  deprecated  for  them  the  for 
mation  of  a  taste  for  luxury,  and  for  the  elegances  of 
life,  which  he  feared  would  make  them  less  happy  in  the 
humble  and  simple  home  in  which  they  had  been  born, 
and  in  which,  as  he  thought,  they  were  destined  to  live. 
It  was  also  at  no  little  sacrifice  of  daily  joy  and  comfort 
that  he  consented  to  the  absence  of  his  eldest  daughter 
from  his  own  home.  She  was  necessary  to  both  father 
and  brother.  Could  she  have  divided  her  disinterested 
care,  as  she  did  her  affections,  between  them,  there 
would  have  been  enough  for  both  ;  but  whoever  had  once 
had  the  happiness  of  her  presence  in  domestic  life  could 
but  reluctantly  consent  to  part  with  her  again.  She 
brought  with  her  into  a  house  the  spirit  of  order  and 
perfect  arrangement.  Cheerfulness  and  tranquil  con 
tentment  entered  with  gentle  footsteps,  like  ministering 
spirits,  and  gladdened  the  roof  under  which  she  dwelt  ; 
and  when  she  departed  from  it  the  sunlight  of  quiet 
happiness  went  with  her. 

"Not  learned,  save  in  gracious  household  ways; 
No  angel,  but  a  dearer  being,  all  dipped 
In  angel  instincts,  breathing  Paradise; 
Interpreter  between  the  gods  and  men; 
And  looked  all  native  to  her  place." 


FAMILY    LETTERS.  361 

A  short  extract  from  one  of  her  letters  will  show, 
that,  if  her  brother's  house  was  a  scene  of  more  varied 
and  more  intellectual  pleasures,  the  one  she  left  was  not 
without  its  tranquil  happiness. 

"  Our  family  have  never  been  so  well  as  at  present.  My 
father  is  in  good  health  and  fine  spirits.  He  is  to  preach  the 
sermon  before  the  Female  Asylum,  at  Newburyport,  and 
also  at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Thurston,  at  Manchester,  and 
will  probably  make  you  a  visit  in  Boston ;  this  last,  how 
ever,  is  only  a  conjecture  of  mine,  so  that  you  must  not  rely 
too  much  upon  it.  The  lovely  M.  G.  has  been  passing  a 
few  days  with  us,  and  adding  to  the  charms  of  our  little 
parlour.  There  is  no  place,  I  believe,  in  the  wide  world, 
where  more  happiness  is  enjoyed,  especially  when  you  visit 
us.  We  are  all  in  perfect  health,  my  father  in  good  spirits, 
with  a  kind  parish,  good,  and  some  very  agreeable,  friends  ; 
we  are  above  all  want,  although  possessing  none  of  the  super 
fluities  of  life;  the  little  children  are  good  and  improving; 
cheerfulness  reigns  in  our  house,  and,  I  hope,  gratitude  in 
our  hearts.  Our  happiness  would  be  greater,  if  you  could 
be  with  us  oftener ;  but  we  please  ourselves,  as  soon  as  you 
are  gone,  by  anticipating  the  next  visit.  With  the  best 
wishes  that  the  heart  can  dictate,  or  the  pen  express,  I  am 
your  affectionate  sister, 

"  L.  M.  B." 

Of  the  large  number  of  family  letters  that  passed 
w.Jiile  the  brother  urged,  and  the  father  reluctantly  con 
sented,  to  break  in  upon  the  union,  and  divide  the  mem 
bers  of  his  family,  only  two  or  three  are  inserted.  The 
father's  fears  were  prophetic.  The  family  never  met 
again  beneath  the  parental  roof.  The  whole  number 
never  met  again  in  life  ;  and  a  most  singular  fatality 
divided  them  also  in  death.  Of  Dr.  Buckminsiers 
31 


362  CORRESPONDENCE. 

twelve  children,  except  some  young  infants,  who^  are 
buried  in  Portsmouth,  only  two  rest  together,  — Joseph 
and  his  eldest  sister  repose  beneath  the  shades  of  Mount 
Auburn.  The  graves  of  the  others  are  scattered  over 
New  England. 

The  old  parsonage-house,  in  Portsmouth,  with  noth 
ing  attractive  in  its  exterior,  with  no  architectural 
beauty,  small  and  inconvenient  in  its  rooms,  dark  and 
shaded  in  its  aspect,  is  yet  filled  with  touching  memo 
ries.  Its  low-roofed  rooms  are  yet  eloquent  to  one 
heart.  Every  beam  has  witnessed  the  prayers  of  the 
father.  Angel  faces  look  back,  sweet,  youthful  voices 
echo  through  its  silent  rooms,  and  every  beloved  name 
is  covered  with  the  flowers  of  memory.  The  thousand 
silken  ties  that  bind  families  together  in  their  youth  are 
like  the  gossamer  webs  which  lie  so  thick  upon  the  grass 
in  a  summer's  morning  ;  —  they  must  be  steeped  in  the 
dew  of  tears  before  they  are  perceived  in  all  their  rain 
bow  colors. 

"  January,  1808. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  Though  I  have  often  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  about  you,  I  really  cannot  recollect 
when  I  last  received  a  letter  from  you.  Mr.  Emerson  has 
told  me  that  he  found  you  well,  both  in  body  and  mind. 
Being  absent,  I  hear  of  your  estate  ;  and  under  the  terms 
of  mind,  body,  and  estate,  is  comprehended,  in  the  English 
liturgy,  all  for  which  we  can  pray  when  we  remember  our 
friends  at  the  Throne  of  Grace.  In  the  last  two  of  these,  I 
am,  by  God's  blessing,  sufficiently  prosperous  ;  at  least,  my 
health  is  as  good  as  I  can  expect,  and  my  estate  far  better 
than  I  deserve.  As  to  my  mind,  I  doubt  not  you  pray  that 
it  may  be  seasoned  with  grace  and  knowledge  ;  I  hope  your 
prayers  will  be  heard. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  363 

"  As  to  the  subject  of  my  being  married,  I  go  so  little 
into  the  company  of  young  people,  that  I  hardly  think  of  it. 
I  must  be  allowed  to  wait  till  something  offers  that  attracts 
me  spontaneously,  and  that  is  truly  eligible.  I  shall  never 
set  out  coolly  in  the  pursuit  of  a  wife.  My  present  situation 
I  believe  not  injurious  to  my  ministerial  character.  If  I  am 
deficient  in  some  of  the  private  sympathies  of  a  pastor,  I 
hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  make  amends  as  a  public  in 
structor. 

"  Do  not  leave  me  without  hope  of  the  presence  and  sol 
ace  of  one  of  my  sisters.  Think,  my  dear  sir,  how  solitary 
you  would  feel  could  you  not  hear  the  voices  of  your  chil 
dren,  and  the  echo  of  footsteps  beside  your  own.  Spare 
me  one  of  my  sisters." 

"  February,  1808. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER, — You  are  unwilling  that  either  of 
my  sisters  should  make  my  house  her  residence.  If  I  could 
perceive  the  shadow  of  an  objection,  or  that  it  could  be  in 
any  way  injurious  to  them  or  to  me,  I  would  not  urge  it. 
But  really  I  know  not  the  shadow  of  an  objection  upon  the 
score  of  delicacy  or  advantage.  One  of  them  would  be 
extremely  useful  to  me,  and  agreeable  to  my  friends.  I 
sincerely  hope  that  no  fancied  prospect  of  my  being  more 
easily  led  to  change  my  condition,  in  consequence  of  being 
left  alone,  will  have  any  operation  upon  your  decision. 

"  E.  would  be  a  great  addition  to  my  comfort ;  let  her 
come  up  with  L.,  and  in  a  few  weeks  one  may  return,  and 
the  other  will  be  less  uneasy  at  being  left  alone.  On  the 
score  of  expense,  there  is  no  objection.  I  do  not  find  that 
the  addition  of  one  or  two  makes  any  difference.  I  cannot 
do  without  one  or  the  other  of  them.  I  chatter  like  a  swal 
low,  and  mourn  like  a  dove  upon  the  housetops 

"  I  find  the  labors  of  my  profession  do  not  diminish  with 
time.  I  ought  not  to  expect  they  should.  If  I  should  be 


364  CORRESPONDENCE. 

blessed  as  the  means  of  doing  any  good,  I  shall  cheerfully 
submit  to  the  dispensations  of  Providence,  if  they  should 
even  compe]  me  to  give  up  my  profession  for  ever.  I  trust 
I  am  prepared  for  any  result  of  my  malady. 

"  I  send  herewith  ten  copies  of  a  little  devotional  work, 
which  I  have  just  had  published.  If  you  know  any  young 
men,  to  whom  it  will  be  likely  to  be  profitable,  I  hope  you 
will  dispose  of  them.  Yours, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

To  which  his  father  answered  :  — 

"My  DEAR  SON, —  I  pity  your  lonely  state,  but  I  think 
you  had  much  better  '  lead  about '  a  wife  than  a  sister.  It 
is  not  my  own  interest  or  necessities  that  form  the  ground 
of  my  objection  to  your  sisters'  residing  with  you  ;  it  is  the 
dread  of  their  being  allured  from  the  retirement  and  the 
regular  habits  of  their  father's  house  into  circles  that  afford 
food  for  their  literary  and  worldly  ambition,  of  which  they 
have  a  full  share ;  and  this,  I  fear,  will  disqualify  them 
for  that  sphere  where  alone  I  would  wish  them  to  shine, 
and  give  them  a  distaste  for  those  enjoyments  without  which 
it  had  been  better  for  us  never  to  have  been  born.  God  has 
blessed  me  with  amiable  and  respectful  children,  but  I  have 
no  evidence  that  they  have,  any  of  them,  so  heard  and 
learned  of  the  Father  that  they  have  come  to  Christ.  I  hope 
God  has  much  happiness  in  store  for  them  ;  but  it  will  never 
be  found  in  worldly  pleasures,  or  ambitious  pursuits.  But  I 
must  yield  to  your  request.  One  of  your  sisters  shall  go 
and  spend  some  weeks  with  you,  and  there  is  no  gallant 
they  would  prefer  to  their  brother,  whenever  it  is  convenient 
for  you  to  come  for  them." 

To  persons  of  different  religious  views  from  Dr. 
Buckminster,  it  may  appear  surprising,  that,  in  answer  to 
the  very  letter  in  which  his  son  expresses  such  entire 


MUSIC.  365 

acquiescence  in  the  will  of  Providence,  as  to  feel  him 
self  ready  to  submit  to  any,  to  the  most  appalling,  con 
sequences  of  his  malady,  his  father  should  have  an 
swered,  that  "  he  had  no  evidence  that  any  of  his  chil 
dren  had  so  learned  of  the  Father  as  to  come  to  Christ." 
Certainly  his  son  had  come  to  the  spirit  of  Christ  ;  and 
where  else  had  he  gained  that  religious  submission  which 
made  him  willing  to  give  up  his  ministry,  his  studies, 
the  objects  of  his  dearest  wishes  and  his  fondest  hopes, 
if  it  should  please  his  Father  in  heaven  to  lay  such  a 
burden  of  affliction  upon  him  ?  It  was  not  stupidity,  for 
he  had  the  keenest  perception  of  the  consequences  of 
his  malady.  Certainly  it  was  not  a  proof  of  an  unholy 
ambition  to  be  willing,  if  it  so  pleased  the  Giver  of  his 
gifts,  to  descend  from  the  beautiful  aspirations  of  genius 
and  wisdom  to  the  lowest  state  in  the  condition  of  in 
tellect. 

As  soon  as  my  brother  had.  obtained  the  permanent 
presence  of  a  sister,*  as  an  inmate  of  his  house,  his 
friends  remarked  the  increase  of  his  cheerfulness,  his 
freedom  from  care,  and  the  entire  confidence  with  which 
he  reposed  upon  her  love  and  faithfulness.  This  added 
a  charm  to  his  bachelor's  parsonage,  increased  his  ac 
quaintance  with  the  younger  members  of  his  parish,  and 
his  house  soon  became  the  hospitable  rendezvous  of  his 
friends  from  Portsmouth.  Music  was  still  his  chief  rec 
reation  ;  and,  after  his  sister  was  with  him,  he  no  sooner 
heard  of  a  distinguished  female  voice  than  he  became 
impatient  till  he  could  persuade  the  possessor  of  such  a 
treasure  to  consent  to  come  and  accompany  him  at  the 
organ  ;  for  this  purpose,  the  instrument  was  removed  to 

*  Afterwards  the  wife  of  Professor  John  Farrar,  of  Cambridge. 
31* 


366  SUNDAY    EVENING    CONVERSATION. 

his  sister's  parlour,  and  the  reunions  there  were  among 
the  most  delightful  in  Boston. 

The  gentlemen  of  his  parish,  and  others  of  his  friends, 
had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  collecting  on  Sunday 
evenings  in  his  study.  He  was  the  centre  of  a  little 
circle,  from  whom  he  received  as  much  as  he  gave. 
There  is  no  evening  in  the  week  when  a  clergyman  feels 
so  much  at  his  ease,  and  so  ready  to  enjoy  social  pleas 
ures,  as  after  the  labors  of  that  day  are  over.  The 
Sabbath  has  been  no  day  of  rest  to  him,  but,  if  his  heart 
is  in  his  profession,  it  is  one  of  keen  enjoyment.  He 
has  finished  the  work  of  the  week,  and  there  is  a  pause 
till  the  next  day.  The  sermons  upon  which  he  has  spent 
so  much  anxious  thought,  every  other  day  of  the  week, 
have  been  preached  ;  they  are  off  his  mind,  and  it  rises 
with  elasticity  from  the  pressure.  He  has  looked  down, 
too,  through  the  day,  upon  the  attentive  and  thoughtful 
faces  of  attached  friends  ;  they  have  encouraged  and 
strengthened  him  by  their  respectful  attention  to  his 
gravest  counsels,  and  now  he  can  listen  and  learn  from 
them,  in  the  hours  of  mutual  and  equal  confidence. 

There  were  a  few  gentlemen  who  scarcely  ever  omit 
ted  a  Sunday  evening's  visit.  Among  those  who  hon 
ored  him  the  most  frequently  with  their  presence  were 
the  Hon.  Samuel  Dexter,  Judge  Parker  and  Judge 
Hall,  James  Savage,  William  Wells,  etc.  Their  host 
thought  their  conversation  sufficiently  interesting,  on  one 
of  these  evenings,  to  preserve  notes  of  it  in  his  journal. 

"  February.  Sunday  evening.  There  was  much  inter 
esting  conversation  on  the  natural  probability  of  the  future 
existence  of  man.  *  Why,'  says  Mr.  Dexter,  '  may  not 
death  be  merely  a  crisis  in  one's  existence  ?  Analogy  in 


SUNDAY    EVENING    CONVERSATION.  367 

the  chrysalis,  etc.,  —  reproduction  of  plants  annually.'  Ob 
jection  :  They  are  not  the  same  plants,  but  a  succession 
of  different  individuals.  Perennials,  which  die  and  re 
vive  not  again,  are  a  counter  analogy.  Qucere,  from , 

about  consciousness,  whether  it  is  necessary  to  constitute 
personal  identity  ?  It  cannot  be.  Is  it,  then,  a  sufficient 
argument  to  encourage  us  to  virtue,  that  we  are  promoting 
the  happiness  of  a  being  which  shall  have  no  consciousness 
of  what  has  been  done  here  ?  '  Why  may  it  not  be  said,' 

remarked ,  '  if  consciousness  do  not  constitute  identity, 

that,  by  behaving  well  here,  you  are  adding  one  to  the  list  of 
happy  beings  hereafter,  but  one  who  is  no  more  yourself 
than  Alexander  ? ' 

"  Mr. .  '  Is  not  the  mode  in  which  men  learn  to  admire 

the  works  of  the  great  masters,  Raphael,  Michel  Angelo, 
precisely  similar  to  the  mode  in  which  the  pathetic  affec 
tions  must  be  generated  ?  By  continual  study  to  generate 
these  feelings,  and  by  familiar  and  uninterrupted  acquaint 
ance,  lest  the  taste  acquired  be  lost  by  other  pursuits  ?  The 
religious  affections,  when  in  their  highest  state,  are  delicate 
and  retired,  like  the  internal  admiration  of  an  artist  for  a 

wonderful  work.'  Mr. .  '  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  says, 

if  you  relish  not  Homer  and  Virgil,  read  them  till  you  do, 
and  do  not  suspect  the  whole  world  has  been  deceived  in 
their  admiration.' 

"  Mr. .  '  Why  was  not  Jesus  married,  to  set  us  an 

example  of  the  duties  of  that  state  ?  '  Answer.  It  would 
have  been  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  his  life  and  mis 
sion.  Mr.  D.  '  Was  the  recommendation  of  celibacy  in 

the  Church  from  his  example  r '  Mr.  related  the 

speech  of  Lord  Chatham  upon  the  subject  of  the  king's 
speech,  —  an  admirable  imitation.  Mr.  D.  expatiated  upon 
the  character  of  Washington,  and  told  anecdotes  of  his  re 
serve  and  dulness  in  conversation,  and  asked  whether  in 
vention  be  a  faculty  necessary  to  constitute  a  great  man. 


368  LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE. 

"  Mr. asked,  4  Is  there  any  connection  between  dif 
ferent  views  of  religion  and  the  state  of  the  affections  ? '    'Is 

there,  in  fact,'  said ,  'any  difference,  except  in  degree, 

between  the  moral  characters  of  men  who  are  accounted 
religious  ?^'  This  is  the  most  difficult  question  in  religion. 
What  is  the  nature  of  true  virtue?  *  How  strange  it  is,' 
said  D.,  '  that  the  first  principles  in  morals  should  be  so  ob 
scure  ! '  Is  there  any  real  difference  in  kind  between  the 
religion  of  Dr.  Doddridge  and  Dr.  Lardner,  for  instance  ? 
or  does  the  difference  result  from  natural  temperament? 
The  question  is  not  to  be  determined  by  particular  exam 
ples,  perhaps,  but  by  a  general  comparison  of  religious 
men  of  all  persuasions.  The  poetry  of  Watts  and  Dod 
dridge  is  most  fervent;  did  this  in  any  degree  depend  upon 
their  views  of  doctrine,  or  on  natural  temperament  ? " 

As  this  was  the  period  of  my  brother's  short  life 
during  which  he  enjoyed  the  greatest  vigor  of  body  and 
perhaps  the  most  effective  energy  of  mind,  I  am  happy 
to  be  permitted  to  add  the  testimony  of  a  friend,*  then 
young  and  enthusiastic,  indeed,  who  visited  him  at  this 
time. 

"  My  recollections  of  Mr.  Buckminster  are  exceedingly 
vivid,  as  well  as  somewhat  minute ;  for  they  are  among 
the  most  cherished  recollections  of  my  whole  life ;  but  then 
you  must  bear  in  mind,  that,  when  I  knew  him,  I  was  but  a 
boy  of  fifteen,  and  I  never  saw  him  except  for  the  few 
days  which  I  then  spent  in  his  family.  I  will  tell  you  liter 
ally  everything  that  I  can  remember  concerning  him 

"About  this  time,  Mr.  Abbot,  of  Coventry,  Conn.,  whose 
pupil  I  was,  in  consequence  of  having  declared  himself  a 
Unitarian,  was  arraigned  by  the  Consociation  of  Tolland 

*  Rev.  Dr.  Sprague,  of  Albany. 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE.  369 

county  for  heresy,  and  dismissed  from  his  charge,  and,  as 
the  phrase  then  was,  '  silenced.'  He,  however,  refused  to 
acknowledge  the  jurisdiction  of  the  body  that  tried  him, 
and  continued  some  time,  by  request  of  the  parish,  to 
officiate  as  usual.  The  parish  and  himself  agreed  to  call 
another  council,  to  whose  adjudication  the  existing  difficul 
ties  should  be  referred  ;  and  this  council  consisted  chiefly 
of  clergymen  from  Boston  and  the  vicinity.  Mr.  Abbot,  I 
think,  more  to  gratify  me  than  for  anything  else,  proposed 

to  me  to  go  to  Boston  and  carry  the  letters  missive 

"It  was  by  no  means  among  the  least  "important  of  the 
circumstances  which  I  anticipated  in  connection  with  my 
journey,  that  it  would  give  me  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
Mr.  Buckminster ;  for  besides  hearing  Mr.  Abbot  talk  of 
him  in  terms  of  unmeasured  praise,  I  had  read  his  sermon 
on  Governor  Sullivan  over  and  over,  with  the  greatest  admi 
ration,  so  that  I  could  repeat  large  portions  of  it.  Mr.  Abbot 
gave  me  a  letter  to  him,  and  directed  me  to  call  upon  him 
immediately  on  my  arrival  in  Boston.  Accordingly,  on 
reaching  Boston,  I  found  my  way  to  the  Brattle  Street  Church 
parsonage,  and  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  gentleman,  dressed 
in  a  sort  of  gray  frock-coat,*  with  whose  appearance  I  was 
exceedingly  struck,  of  whom  I  inquired  if  Mr.  Buckminster 
was  at  home.  He  said  yes,  and  asked  me  to  walk  in. 
After  conversing  with  him  for  some  time,  and  not  dreaming 
that  he  was  Mr.  Buckminster,  and  yet  wondering  what  more 
Mr.  Buckminster  could  be,  I  asked  him  if  I  was  right  in 
supposing  him  to  say  that  Mr.  Buckminster  was  at  home. 
'  O,  yes,'  he  replied,  '  I  am  he.'  I  then  gave  him  my  letter, 
which  he  read  ;  and,  after  making  an  inquiry  or  two  concern- 

*  This  was  a  half-military  frock-coat  of  iron  gray,  which  he  had 
made  to  travel  in  during  his  journey  on  the  Continent,  at  a  time  when 
the  military  costume  alone  commanded  respect.  After  his  return,  the 
embroidery  was  taken  off  the  collar,  and  it  served  him  as  a  study 
coat  for  several  years. 


370  LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE. 

ing  Mr.  Abbot,  he  told  me  that  I  must  come  and  stay  with 
him  while  I  remained  in  Boston.  I  asked  him  to  excuse 
me,  though  for  no  other  reason  than  that  I  feared  it  would 
be  indelicate  for  me  to  accept  the  invitation.  He  said  he 
should  not  excuse  me,  and  that  I  must  stay  and  make  him 
a  visit ;  that  he  would  show  me  the  town,  etc.  The  short 
of  it  was,  that  he  insisted  upon  sending  for  my  luggage, 
and  I  stayed  in  his  house,  in  all,  nearly  a  week. 

"  One  of  the  first  things  he  did  was  to  accompany  me 
to  see  Dr.  Lathrop,  to  whom  I  had  a  letter  (missive)  from 
Mr.  Abbot.  The  old  gentleman  came  out  of  his  study, 
wearing  an  immense  gown,  and  said  that  he  was  busy, 
writing  Dr.  Eckley's  funeral  sermon,  but  found  it  very 

difficult  to  get  into  his  subject I  think  it  was  upon 

leaving  Dr.  Lathrop's  that  he  took  me  to  the  top  of  the 
Exchange,  which,  he  said,  commanded  the  best  view  of  the 
town ;  and  then  he  pointed  out  to  me  various  interesting 
objects,  of  which  I  had  often  heard,  but  which  I  saw  then 
for  the  first  time.  He  wished  me  to  feel  entirely  at  home, 
and  to  stay  with  him  in  his  study  whenever  it  was  pleasant 
to  me ;  and  I  assure  you  that  it  was  so  pleasant  to  me,  that 
I  was  little  disposed  to  be  anywhere  else.  I  had  from  my 
childhood  a  passion  for  reading  eloquent  sermons,  and  es 
pecially  for  gathering  pamphlets  ;  and,  having  found  in  a 
corner  of  his  study  a  quantity  of  pamphlets  stowed  away, 
I  set  myself  to  examining  them.  When  he  saw  what  I  was 
about,  he  laughed  a  little  at  what  he  thought  my  odd  taste, 
but  told  me  to  keep  at  it  and  to  select  from  the  mass  for 
myself  whatever  I  cared  for;  and  I  actually  took  him  at 
his  word,  and  selected  enough  to  make  a  large  bundle. 

"  Of  course,  my  most  important  day  with  him  was  Sunday. 
I  went  with  him  to  church  in  the  morning,  and  heard  him 
preach  and  administer  the  communion.  The  subject  of 
his  discourse  was  baptism.  It  was,  so  far  as  I  remember, 
entirely  of  a  didactic  character.  I  have  an  idea  that  it 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE.  371 

was  not  among  his  most  eloquent  productions ;  and  yet 
everything  that  he  said  operated  upon  me  like  a  charm. 
The  tones  of  his  voice  have  not  ceased  to  vibrate  upon  my 
ears  to  this  day ;  and  I  often  try  to  render  my  impressions 
of  them  more  vivid,  by  an  attempt  to  imitate  them.  I  do 
not  remember  that  there  was  much  passion  evinced  in  his 
manner,  but  there  was  a  calm  dignity,  an  inimitable  grace 
fulness  of  attitude  and  gesture,  a  countenance  radiant  with 
intelligence  and  benevolence,  and,  above  all,  an  impressive 
solemnity  that  spoke  of  the  reality  and  the  depth  of  his  con 
victions,  such  as  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  witnessed 
in  the  same  admirable  combination.  I  recollect  that  he 
prayed  with  his  eyes  open,  elevated  at  an  angle  of  about 
forty-five  degrees,  and  perfectly  fixed.  I  had  never  seen 
the  same  thing  before,  and  it  was  then,  as  it  is  still,  a  matter 
of  wonder  how  he  could  do  it.  In  the  afternoon,  he  preached 
a  sermon  with  some  reference  to  the  death  of  Dr.  Eckley, 
which  he  wrote  while  I  was  with  him  in  his  study,  but  which 
I  did  not  hear  him  preach  :  I  heard  Dr.  Griffin  at  Park  Street. 

"  After  the  second  service,  he  appeared  greatly  exhaust 
ed 

•  "  In  the  evening,  Mr.  William  Wells,  and  some  other 
gentlemen  whose  names  I  do  not  recollect,  came  and  passed 
an  hour  or  two  in  his  study,  and  he  took  his  full  share  in 
the  conversation. 

"  Though  I  remained  several  days  with  him  at  this  time, 
he  told  me  that  I  must  be  sure  and  come  and  see  him  again 
on  my  return  from  Beverly,  and  some  other  places  which 
I  had  occasion  to  visit.  I  assure  you  I  needed  nothing 
more  than  an  invitation  to  bring  me  back  to  him  ;  and  when 
I  came  back,  he  greeted  me  with  as  much  affection  as  if  he 
had  been  my  father.  On  the  morning  that  I  finally  left 
him,  he  handed  me  a  little  note,  which  he  asked  me  to  de 
liver  at  Mr.  Wells's  bookstore,  containing  a  request  that  he 
would  give  me,  on  his  account,  a  copy  of  '  Griesbach's 


372  LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE. 

New  Testament,'  which  he  had  then  just  edited,  and  of 
'  Walker's  Key,  etc.,'  the  latter  of  which,  he  said,  was  de 
signed  to  aid  me  in  attaining  a  correct  pronunciation.  Un 
fortunately,  my  old  horse  was  so  loaded  clown  with  other 
treasures  that  he  had  given  me,  particularly  in  the  way  of 
pamphlets,  that  I  was  obliged  to  leave  these  more  valuable 
books  behind ;  and  alas !  they  were  sold  with  his  library."  * 

The  same  writer  adds  :  — 

"  It  might  seem  like  affectation  if  I  were  to  tell  you  how 
much  his  death  affected  me  ;  or,  indeed,  if  I  were  to  tell 
you  with  what  warmth  and  depth  of  affection  I  have  cher 
ished  his  memory  ever  since.  I  think  of  him  always  as 
the  most  lovely,  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  exalted  form 
of  humanity.  I  have  met  with  many  persons  who  cherish 
a  grateful  and  exalted  impression  both  of  his  gifts  and  his 
virtues ;  but,  strange  as  you  may  think  it,  T  have  never  met 
with  one  who  seemed  to  love  and  venerate  his  memory  as 
I  do  myself.  I  confess  that  it  is  to  myself  somewhat  of  a 
mystery.  Doubtless  something  must  be  allowed  for  the  in 
fluence  of  a  young  imagination,  and  for  some  other  peculiar 
circumstances  attending  my  visit,  which  I  have  not  men 
tioned  ;  but,  however  it  may  be  accounted  for,  certain  it  is, 
that,  to  this  day,  there  is  scarcely  a  name  among  the  dead 
that  is  embalmed  in  my  heart  amidst  such  warm  and  grateful 
recollections  as  the  name  of  Buckminster.  I  have  never 
hesitated  to  bear  this  testimony  to  his  exalted  character, 
though  his  religious  views,  I  suppose,  were  materially 
different  from  my  own.  His  published  sermons,  however, 
contain  little  to  which  Christians  of  any  denomination  would 
find  occasion  to  object.  I  have  in  my  mind,  at  this  moment, 

*  The  Greek  Testament  was  finally  recovered.  It  was  bought  at 
the  sale  of  Mr.  Buckminster's  library,  by  Rev.  Mr.  Huntington,  and 
cheerfully  relinquished  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Everett. 


REMINISCENCES    BY    REV.    DR.    PIERCE.  373 

Uvo  or  three  of  the  greatest  lights  of  the  'orthodox' 
pulpit,  who  have  pronounced  his  sermons  quite  unrivalled 
in  that  department  of  composition.*  Robert  Southey  spoke 
of  them  to  me  as  decidedly  among  the  finest  in  the  lan 
guage." 

To  the  above  I  have  the  privilege  of  adding  an 
extract  from  the  diary  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pierce,  of 
Brookline,  written  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  express 
ing  the  prevalent  feeling  of  the  community.  After 
speaking  of  his  return  from  Europe,  Dr.  Pierce  goes  on 
to  say  :  — 

"  His  study  became  the  resort  of  the  first  scholars  among 
us  ;  and  his  company  was  equally  sought  by  people  of  fash 
ion,  of  literature,  and  of  religion.  Every  society,  whether 
for  science,  humanity,  or  religion,  was  desirous  of  enrolling 
him  among  its  members.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Ameri 
can  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  of  the  Historical  So 
ciety,  of  the  Humane  Society,  of  the  Massachusetts  Chari 
table  Fire  Society,  of  the  Christian  Monitor  Society,  and 
Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Bible  Society  of  Massachu 
setts.  He  preached  an  acceptable  sermon  before  the  Fe 
male  Asylum,  which  he  declined  to  publish.  The  last  ser 
mon  that  he  wrote  he  delivered  before  the  Christian  Monitor 
Society. t 

"  He  was  principally  instrumental  in  inducing  the  Rev. 
Noah  Worcester  to  forsake  the  retirement  he  loved,  and 
come  into  the  vicinity  of  Boston  and  Cambridge,  where  he 

*  "  The  gentlemen  referred  to  are  Dr.  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith,  of 
Princeton,  Dr.  Inglis,  of  Baltimore,  and  Dr.  Romaine,  of  New  York." 

t  He  was  also  an  honorary  member  of  the  New  York  Historical 
Society,  an  officer  of  the  Society  just  created  for  the  Improvement  of 
Seamen,  and,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  one  of  the  School  Committee 
of  Boston. 

32 


374  REMINISCENCES    BY    REV.    DR.    PIERCE. 

ceased  not  but  with  life  to  cooperate  with  the   friends  of 
peace  and  of  liberal  Christianity. 

"  Mr.  Buckminster  was  rather  below  the  common  size, 
muscular,  and  well  proportioned.  His  countenance  was  ex 
tremely  expressive,  lighted  up  with  eyes  irresistibly  fasci 
nating.  His  manners  were  highly  polished,  but  perhaps 
no  person  was  ever  farther  removed  from  flattery.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  was  exceedingly  open-hearted,  and  often 
told  people  truths  which  would  hardly  have  been  tolerated 
from  any  other  person.  He  was  the  delight  of  the  ladies  ; 
but  never  did  he  procure  their  favor  by  studied  attentions, 
and  perhaps  no  lady  ever  suspected  herself  to  be  the  object 
of  them.  In  small  circles,  he  was  usually  sociable  ;  but 
sometimes  he  would  appear  absent  in  company,  probably 
from  the  circumstance  that  he  had  not  completely  relaxed 
his  mind  from  the  last  pursuit  in  which  he  was  engaged. 

"  His  brethren  of  the  Boston  Association  will  long  re 
member  the  pleasure  and  instruction  which  he  never  failed 
to  impart  to  their  circle ;  with  what  readiness  he  entered  into 
their  sympathies  ;  what  light  he  cast  upon  their  most  per 
plexing  topics ;  and  what  assistance  he  afforded  in  their 
most  embarrassing  situations. 

"  In  the  pulpit,  Mr.  Buckminster  ranked  among  the  very 
first  preachers  which  this  or  any  other  country  has  pro 
duced.  His  sermons  were  written  in  a  style,  simple,  ner 
vous,  perspicuous,  adorned  with  captivating  figures.  It  was 
impossible  to  withhold  attention  from  him.  He  seemed  to 
have  a  perfect  command  of  his  audience,  and,  as  occasion 
required,  he  could  at  once  excite  all  the  lively  emotions  of 
the  soul.  His  peculiar  excellence  consisted  in  portraying 
characters.  Hence  some  of  his  most  acceptable  sermons 
have  been  those  which  treated  of  the  characters  of  Peter,  of 
Paul,  of  Philemon,  and  of  Christ.  He  had  the  faculty,  as  a 
preacher,  of  interesting  those  who  would  be  interested  in 
the  services  of  no  other  man.  Under  his  preaching,  it  is 


REMINISCENCES    BY    REV.    DR.    ABBOT.  375 

believed  that  many  have  been  induced  to  attend  to  the  sub 
ject  of  religion  in  earnest,  who  might  otherwise  have  been 
slumbering  in  indifference. "  * 

The  venerable  clergyman  mentioned  in  the  letter  of 
Dr.  Sprague,  now  living  at  the  age  of  eighty, f  writes 
thus  :  — 

44  No  person  could  become  acquainted  with  Mr.  Buck  min 
ster  without  loving  him.  He  was  a  perfect  man.  On  see 
ing  him  once,  his  image  could  not  be  blotted  from  the  mind. 
I  am  greatly  indebted  to  his  kindness.  When  feeling 
obliged,  by  my  situation,  to  give  the  Trinitarian  hypothesis  a 
thorough  examination,  I  wrote  to  Dr.  Kirkland,  requesting 
him  to  purchase  for  me  the  best  treatises  on  the  Trinitarian, 
Arian,  and  Socinian  hypotheses.  He  sent  in  the  package  a 
number  of  books  from  Mr.  Buckminster,  having  his  name 
in  them.  When  the  consociation  was  convoked  at  Coventry, 
I  wrote  to  him,  requesting  his  advice.  Afterwards,  at  Bos 
ton,  he  introduced  me  to  his  brethren.  When  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  be  one  of  a  mutual  council,  if  one  was  called, 
he  advised  me  to  invite  older  men  than  himself." 

The  answer  to  the  letter  referred  to  in  the  last  ex 
tract  is  here  introduced  :  — 

"Boston,  Jan.  12th,  1811. 

44  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  have  delayed  writing  to  you  till  the 
present  time  for  several  reasons ;  the  principal  of  which 
was,  however,  that  I  might  be  able  to  write  more  positively 
on  the  subject  about  which  you  are  most  interested.  It  ap 
pears  to  me,  that,  if  you  are  compelled  to  call  an  exparte 
council,  it  should  be  composed  of  the  most  grave  and  ex 
perienced  men  you  can  procure.  I  presume,  from  what 
you  have  before  said,  that  Dr.  Dana  and  Dr.  Lee  could  be 

*  From  the  diary  of  Rev.  John  Pierce,  D.  D.,  June,  1812. 
t  Rev.  Abiel  Abbot,  D.  D.,  now  of  Peterborough,  N.  H. 


376  LETTER    TO    DR.    ABBOT. 

obtained  from  Connecticut,  and  these,  united  with  Drs. 
Reed  and  Sanger,  of  Bridgewater,  Kendall,  of  Weston,  Ban 
croft,  of  Worcester,  etc.,  and,  perhaps,  one  or  two  more 
from  this  town,  would  compose  a  sufficiently  large  and  re 
spectable  assembly.  I  find  that  Dr.  Pierce,  of  Brookline, 
absolutely  declines,  and  so,  I  fear,  would  Mr.  Channing.  In 
speaking  with  the  latter  on  the  subject,  his  impressions 
seemed  to  be  that  it  was  not  proper  to  send  to  ministers  so 
young,  or  of  so  short  standing  in  the  Church,  as  himself. 

"  If  a  vote  of  censure,  or  of  excommunication,  should 
pass  against  you  in  the  consociation,  I  presume  you  will  con 
tinue  to  preach  and  minister  to  those  who  still  choose  to  at 
tend  upon  your  ministry  in  Coventry.  This,  I  think,  is  due 
to  their  attachment  to  you.  If  any  part  of  the  Church  re 
main  with  you,  I  see  not  what  you  will  gain  by  the  calling 
of  an  exparte  council,  except  it  be  the  form  of  a  regular 
ministerial  character,  and  you  can  best  tell  whether  that  is 
of  much  consequence  in  the  minds  of  your  friends  in  Cov 
entry.  If  the  council  should  be  thought  important,  perhaps 
it  is  not  immediately  necessary,  and  might  be  deferred  till 
the  season  is  milder.  I  wish,  that,  if  a  council  is  called, 
it  should  be  very  respectable,  and  that,  to  the  names  al 
ready  mentioned,  Dr.  Osgood's  might  be  added  ;  but  noth 
ing,  I  fear,  would  persuade  him  to  leave  home  in  winter. 
"  I  am  faithfully  yours, 

"J.  S.  B. 

"  P.  S.  If  you  wish  to  print  any  statement  of  facts,  I 
will  take  care  to  get  it  done  without  expense  to  you." 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  by  Dr.  Pierce,  that 
Mr.  Buckminster  was  principally  instrumental  in  inducing 
the  venerable  Noah  Worcester  to  come  to  the  vicinity 
of  Boston.  The  writer  well  remembers  the  surprise 
and  enthusiasm  which  her  brother  expressed  at  the  first 


NOAH    WORCESTER.  377 

appearance  of  cc  Bible  News,"  and  the  sanguine  hope 
he  felt  that  it  would  aid  the  cause  of  free  inquiry,  and 
ultimately  of  truth.  When  its  author  first  visited  Bos 
ton,  he  was  the  welcome  guest  of  his  young  friend  at 
the  parsonage,  and  both  Joseph  arid  his  sister  were 
charmed  by  the  patriarchal  simplicity,  the  genuine  and 
fascinating  urbanity  and  good  sense,  of  their  guest.  My 
brother  died  before  Dr.  Worcester  could  remove  to  the 
vicinity  of  Boston  ;  and  it  has  been  remarked  to  the 
writer,  by  a  near  relative,  that  he  was  overwhelmed  with 
grief  at  the  death  of  his  young  friend,  and  felt  that 
much  of  the  happiness  he  expected  from  his  change  of 
residence  was  gone. 

The  venerable  author  of  one  of 'the  last  extracts 
speaks  of  the  general  character  of  his  attentions  to  the 
other  sex,  and  the  interest  with  which  he  was  regarded 
by  them.  Although,  in  God's  providence,  he  was 
never  permitted  to  form  those  intimate  ties  which  are 
so  necessary  to  hearts  fitted,  as  was  his,  to  feel  every 
tender  emotion,  yet,  had  he  lived  to  reach  middle  age, 
surely  to  him  would  have  been  opened  that  fairest  page 
in  the  book  of  life,  when  every  duty  and  every  care 
would  have  been  lightened,  and  "the  face  of  nature 
made  radiant  with  the  light  of  love."  No  one  can 
have  read  his  sermon  on  "  The  Influence  of  Chris 
tianity  upon  the  Character  of  the  Female  Sex,"  and 
the  sentiments  scattered  everywhere  in  his  writings, 
and  not  feel  that  he  had  the  most  generous,  the  most 
impartial,  and  the  most  true  appreciation  of  the  nature 
of  woman  ;  no  one  can  have  remarked  the  frequent 
pathos  of  his  expressions,  when  speaking  of  the  sorrows 
of  human  hearts,  and  not  feel  that  they  were  derived  from 
32* 


378  LETTER    ON    MARRIAGE. 

real  sensibility.  A  passage  from  a  letter  to  a  young 
person,  upon  her  intended  marriage,  shows  how  fully  he 
understood  what  must  enter  into  the  union  to  form  a 
happy  marriage. 

"  MY  DEAR :  —  I  -have  long  wished  to  find  lime  for 

writing  you  a  letter,  more  valuable  than  mine  usually  are, 
upon  a  subject  extremely  interesting  to  you  and  therefore 

to  your  friend.  Mr. has  impressed  me  in  the  most 

favorable  manner,  and,  for  what  I  have  not  seen,  I  am  wil 
ling  to  take  your  word.  But,  my  dear  friend,  if  I  had  not 
every  reason  to  coincide  with  you  in  opinion  of  him,  to 
whom  you  have  given  the  rich  treasure  of  your  love,  I 
should  yet  say,  that  a  sincere  and  pious  affection  on  both 
sides  is  a  sufficient  ground  for  hopeful  confidence  in  this 
union.  Time  will  form  two  pure  and  amiable  souls  for 
each  other,  and  religious  principle,  under  the  smiles  of 
Heaven,  even  in  cases  where  superficial  observers  may  not 
see  any  peculiar  coincidence  of  character,  will  mould  your 
dispositions  into  an  harmonious  and  ever-increasing  unity 
of  feeling.  As  you  learn  each  other's  tastes,  views,  and 
principles,  the  love  and  fear  of  God,  mingling  with  your 
hopes  for  earth,  will  blend  into  a  beautiful  harmony  for 
eternity. 

"  You  have  been  tutored  in  one  of  the  best  schools  in  the 
world,  and  under  the  best  religious  influences.  If  you 
should  be  married,  the  sphere  of  your  cares  and  duties  will 
hardly  be  enlarged,  though  the  sources  of  your  happiness 
will  be  multiplied.  You  will  not  indulge,  I  know,  in  great 
expectations  from  the  world  and  its  pleasures,  wherever  you 
may  live ;  yet,  as  your  chiefest  joy  will  be  in  your  family, 
and  in  seeing  those  under  your  influence  blessed  by  your 
example,  you  may  expect  much  happiness  without  being 
disappointed.  May  God  bless  you,  my  dear  friend,  and 


ON    FEMALE    CHARACTER.  379 

bring  you  nearer  to  me,  to  increase  my  social  blessings, 
and  to  improve,  by  your  example,  the  often  feeble  virtues 
of  your  friend, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

An  extract  from  one  of  his  sermons  is  given,  to  show 
that  he  fully  appreciated  the  character  of  woman.  He 
is  addressing  the  Managers  of  the  Female  Asylum  for 
Orphan  Children  :  — 

"  Accustomed  more  to  retirement  than  to  active  life,  you 
have  more  leisure,  and  consequent  disposition,  for  religious 
contemplations.  It  is  also  infinitely  honorable  to  your  char 
acter  that  you  ever  feel  a  secret  sympathy  with  a  religion 
which  unlocks  all  the  sources  of  benevolent  affection,  which 
smiles  on  every  exercise  of  compassion  and  every  act  of 
kindness.  We  may  say,  too,  that  your  hearts,  not  hardened 
by  the  possession  of  power,  the  pains  of  avarice,  or  the 
emulations  of  public  life,  are  more  alive  to  the  accents  of 
pardon  by  Jesus  Christ,  more  awake  to  the  glories  of  the  in 
visible  world.  The  Gospel  came  to  throw  a  charm  over 
domestic  life,  and,  in  retirernen^,  the  first  objects  that  it 
found  were  mothers  and  their  children.  It  came  to  bind  up 
the  broken-hearted,  and,  for  that  office,  woman  was  always 
best  prepared.  It  came  to  heal  the  sick,  and  woman  was 
already  waiting  at  their  couches.  It  came  to  open  the  gates 
of  life  upon  the  languid  eye  of  the  dying  penitent,  and 
woman  was  everywhere  to  be  seen,  softly  tending  at  the 
pillow,  and  closing  the  eyes  of  the  departing 

44 1  believe,  that,  if  Christianity  should  be  compelled  to 
flee  from  the  mansions  of  the  great,  the  academies  of  phi 
losophers,  the  halls  of  legislation,  or  the  throng  of  busy  men, 
we  should  find  her  last  and  purest  retreat  with  woman,  at 
the  fireside  ;  her  last  altar  would  be  the  female  heart ;  her 
last  audience  would  be  the  children  gathered  round  the 


380  SISTERLY    LOVE. 

knees  of  a  mother ;  her  last  sacrifice,  the  secret  prayer  es 
caping  in  silence  from  her  lips,  and  heard  only  at  the  throne 
of  God." 

With  such  appreciation  of  the  tenderness  of  woman, 
we  must  regret  that  he  lived  unmarried  ;  but,  during  a 
part  of  his  short  life,  he  was  not  unaccompanied  by  the 
truest,  the  most  faithful  and  single-hearted  affection. 
The  sister,  who  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  his  guardian, 
watched  over  him  with  more  than  a  sister's  love.  In 
the  attacks  of  his  malady  by  night,  hers  was  like  the  in 
stinctive  vigilance  of  a  mother  ;  the  wing  of  the  night- 
moth  was  sufficient  to  wake  her,  and  bring  her,  like  the 
mother,  to  the  couch  of  her  sleeping  treasure. 

"  But  let  him  grieve,  who  cannot  choose  but  grieve, 
That  he  hath  been  an  elm  without  his  vine, 
And  her  bright  dower  of  clustering  charities, 
That  round  his  trunk  and  branches  might  have  clung 
Enriching  and  adorning.     Unto  thee, 
Not  so  enriched,  not  so  adorned,  to  thee 
Was  given  a  sister, 

In  whom  thy  reason  aiid  intelligent  heart 
Found  —  for  all  interests,  hopes,  and  tender  cares, 
All  softening,  humanizing,  hallowing  powers  — 
More  than  sufficient  recompense."  * 

*  Wordsworth. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

SERMON    ON  THE  DEATH    OF    GOVERNOR   SULLIVAN.  —  LETTER 

ON    DUELLING. BIBLE    SOCIETY. ADDRESS    BEFORE    THE 

SOCIETY    OF    3>.  B.  K.  THE  ATHENJEUM. 

1809.  THE  chapter   begins  with  an   extract   from 

Aged  25.    t[]e  journal  of  this  year. 

"  January  2d.  A  new  year  has  begun.  In  looking  back 
upon  the  events  of  my  life  the  last  year,  I  perceive  little 
or  no  improvement.  Sure  I  am  that  my  stock  of  theo 
logical  knowledge  has  not  been  increased,  though  I  have  rea 
son  to  hope  that  my  sermons  for  the  last  year  have  not  been 
inferior  to  any  preceding  ones.  In  the  trials  to  which  God 
has  exposed  me,  I  endeavour  to  discern  the  designs  of  his 
providence.  The  disorder  to  which  I  am  still  subjected  ought 
to  be  to  me  a  perpetual  lesson  of  humility  and  dependence. 
I  have  sometimes  thought,  that,  if  our  powers  and  state  of 
mind  in  another  world  depend  at  all  upon  the  condition  of 
the  intellect  when  we  leave  this,  I  should  prefer  to  die  be 
fore  my  rnind  shall  be  debilitated  by  this  disorder.  May  this 
consideration,  with  others,  tend  to  keep  me  in  a  state  of 
perpetual  willingness  and  readiness  to  depart. 

"  My  greatest  trial  the  past  year  has  been  the  attack  upon 
my  selection  of  hymns  for  the  use  of  Brattle  Street  Church. 
I  cannot  but  think  it  insidious  and  impertinent.  If  I  have 
indulged  in  any  improper  feelings  towards  the  supposed 
author,  I  pray  God  to  forgive  me.  At  least,  I  hope  they  do 


382   EXTRACT  FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  MR.  BUCKMINSTER. 

not  appear  in  my  reply.  I  have  hitherto  refrained,  and  shall 
refrain,  from  reading  the  author's  rejoinder,  because,  since 
my  friends  tell  me  there  is  nothing  in  it  requiring  a  reply, 
I  know  not  why  I  should  put  my  tranquillity  to  the  test  which 
the  perusal  would  occasion.  As  to  the  principal  and  most 
important  charge  in  the  review,  of  undeclared  alterations, 
I  can  put  down  here  what  it  was  not  necessary  to  tell  the 
public,  that  I  did  not  know  of  them  till  they  wore  pointed 
out  to  me  by  the  reviewer.  I  took  the  hymns,  without  any 
alteration  of  my  own,  from  the  collection  of  Dr.  Kippis.* 

"  I  fear  that  the  state  of  my  affections  has  not  been  im 
proved  the  last  year ;  yet  I  hope  I  have  learned  some 
humility  from  the  public  and  the  secret  opposition  which 
has  been  made  to  me  as  a  minister.  May  God  make  my 
motives  pure  and  simple,  and  give  me,  this  year,  which  is 
now  beginning,  a  deeper  interest  in  the  religious  state  of  my 
parish,  and  less  concern  for  my  own  reputation." 

In  January  of  this  year,  was  published  the  first  ser 
mon  which  he  ever  gave  to  the  press.  It  was  oc 
casioned  by  the  death  of  His  Excellency,  James  Sulli 
van.  Governor  Sullivan  had  been  one  of  the  most  con 
stant  and  zealous  of  his  friends.  He  was  chairman  of 
the  Brattle  Street  Parish  Committee,  and  all  his  in 
tercourse  with  his  pastor  had  been  marked  by  the  most 
courteous,  considerate,  and  affectionate  friendship. 

In  this  connection  is  introduced  a  letter  to  Governor 
Sullivan,  upon  the  subject  of  duelling.  The  corre 
spondence  arose  from  an  animated  conversation  at  the 
table  of  the  Governor,  in  which  the  subject  was  dis 
cussed  and  defended. 

"  MY  DEAR    SIR,  —  I  know   not    whether   you  expected 
*  The  reference  is  to  a  review  in  the  "  Panoplist." 


LETTER    ON    DUELLING.  383 

a  reply  to  the  letter  with  which  you  favored  me  yesterday 
morning ;  but,  upon  reading  it,  I  am  strongly  tempted  to  put 
down  a  few  thoughts  on  paper,  and  should  have  done  it 
yesterday,  but  all  my  time  was  taken  up  in  preparation  for 
to-day.  By  sending  these  lines,  however,  I  have  no  inten 
tion  of  drawing  you  into  a  troublesome  discussion  of  the 
question  of  duelling. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  explanation  of  what  I  uttered, 
perhaps,  too  hastily,  —  that  I  would  knock  a  man  down  who 
should  insult  me  in  the  street.  How  far  it  would  be  con 
sistent  with  the  spirit  of  a  Christian  1  dare  not  say ;  but,  at 
any  rate,  I  meant  only  to  express  the  probable  effect  of 
strong  passion,  irresistibly  excited  in  a  mind  so  imperfectly 
regulated  as  my  own.  I  do  not  think,  however,  that  this 
affords  any  parallel  to  the  revenge  taken  in  a  duel,  because 
the  first  is  done  in  sudden  passion,  the  last  in  cool  blood. 

"  Allow  me,  also,  though  I  am  sensible  of  my  ignorance 
of  law,  to  question  whether  the  cases  you  have  stated, 
where  murder  in  defence  of  one's  reputation  is  softened 
by  our  laws  into  homicide,  are  parallel  to  that  of  the 
duellist,  who  deliberately  kills  a  man  out  of  regard  to  his 
own  reputation.  Though  it  is  permitted  to  kill  an  adulterer, 
the  act  is  justified,  I  conceive,  not  because  it  is  done  out 
of  regard  to  reputation,  but  because  it  is  a  provocation  which 

excites  immediate  passionate  resentment The  case 

is  the  same  with  a  woman  who  kills  another  in  defence  of 
her  chastity.  There  is  an  additional  reason,  too,  in  this 
last  instance,  to  justify  the  murder,  and  that  is,  that,  if  she 
had  it  in  her  power,  and  did  not  kill  the  man,  she  never 
could  prove  to  the  world  that  she  did  not  in  some  measure 
consent  to  the  act.  In  the  other  instances  which  you  ad 
duce,  when  a  man  is  killed  in  the  act  of  breaking  into  your 
house  in  the  night,  or  of  taking  your  purse  on  the  high 
way  in  the  dark,  the  murder  is  palliated,  not  because  it  is 
committed  in  defence  of  your  property  ;  for  if  this  were  the 


384  LETTER    ON    DUELLING. 

reason,  it  would  be  equally  justifiable  to  kill  the  one  in  the 
day-time,  and  the  other  when  he  offered  no  violence,  or 
craftily  picked  your  pocket  in  the  day-time. 

"  If  duelling  were  any  redress  of  the  supposed  injury, 
(which  it  plainly  is  not,  because  the  chance  of  being  killed 
is  equal  to  the  injurer  and  the  injured,  and,  even  if  the 
offender  were  always  sure  to  fall,  the  other's  character  is 
not  cleared  in  the  sight  of  God  or  man,)  yet  I  conceive 
that  nothing  can  authorize  us  deliberately  to  seek  satisfac 
tion  in  the  blood  of  a  fellow-creature,  in  cases  where  we 
ourselves  are  the  unauthorized  judges  of  the  injury  re 
ceived,  and  where  there  is  no  standard  but  our  own  feel 
ings,  or  the  fickle  opinions  of  the  world,  by  which  the  in 
jury  can  be  estimated.  If  the  unauthorized  laws  of  honor 
may  be  allowed  to  create  exceptions  to  express  commands 
of  God,  there  is  an  end  of  all  laws,  human  and  Divine.  If 
a  man  may  redress  his  own  wrongs  by  killing  his  neigh 
bour,  when  he  cannot  appeal  to  the  social  compact  for  de 
fence  and  remuneration,  I  see  not  why  he  may  not  chal 
lenge  him  for  not  taking  off  his  hat  to  him  in  the  street,  as  • 
well  as  for  insulting  him  more  grossly.  I  see  not  why  a 
man  may  not  make  his  own  notions  of  honor  the  standard, 
as  well  as  the  opinions  of  the  world  the  umpire. 

"  My  dear  Sir,  the  only  question  on  this  subject  is  this : 
whether   a  regard   for  our  own   reputation  is  sufficient  to 

justify  us  in  deliberately  taking  the  life  of  another 

When,  after  these  secular  reasons,  I  turn  to  the  spirit 
of  Christian  morality,  I  can  hardly  forgive  myself  for  pro 
posing  the  question.  Excuse  the  haste  and  inaccuracy  with 
which  these  lines  are  written.  I  presume  my  remarks  are 
already  familiar  to  your  own  mind,  and  I  must  request  your 
indulgence  for  venturing  to  suggest  them. 

"  Yours,  with  friendship  and  respect, 

"J.  S.  B." 


MASSACHUSETTS    BIBLE    SOCIETY.  385 

In  July  of  this  year  was  formed  the  Massachusetts 
Bible  Society.  The  public  were  prepared  for  it  by  an 
address  which  appeared  in  the  journals  of  the  day.  The 
first  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Society  was  Joseph 
S.  Buckminster.  The  address  was  written  by  him  ;  it 
was  circulated  very  extensively  in  the  country,  and  was 
afterwards  published  at  some  length,  with  distinguished 
praise,  in  the  Report  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible 
Society.  A  few  extracts  from  this  address  follow  :  — 

"  You  are  invited,  Christians,  to  lend  your  aid  to  the  dis 
tribution  of  the  Bible.  The  revealed  word  of  God  is,  and 
ever  has  been,  the  source  of  what  is  most  valuable  in 
human  knowledge,  most  salutary  in  human  institutions,  most 
pure  in  human  affections,  comfortable  in  human  condition, 
desirable  and  glorious  in  human  expectations.  Without 
it,  man  returns  to  a  state  of  nature,  ignorant,  depraved, 
and  helpless,  —  left  without  assurances  of  pardon,  and  lost 
to  the  way  of  recovery  and  life.  It  is  the  pearl  of  great 
price,  to  buy  which  the  merchant  in  the  parable  sold  all 
that  he  had,  and  yet  was  rich.  Without  this,  wealth  is 
poor,  and  the  treasures  of  ancient  wisdom  and  modern 
science  a  mass  of  inanimate  knowledge 

"  It  was  the  most  glorious  consequence  of  the  Reforma 
tion  to  draw  forth  the  Book  of  God  from  the  obscurity  in 
which  it  had  been  kept,  and,  by  giving  translations  in  the 
vernacular  tongues,  to  throw  open  its  treasures  to  the  peo 
ple,  and  thus  also  to  secure  them  for  ever  against  its  future 
loss.  It  was  the  unsealing  of  the  fountain  of  life,  that  its 
waters  might  flow  freely  for  the  healing  of  the  people.  We, 
too,  in  New  England,  ought  never  to  forget,  that,  to  preserve 
the  authority  of  this  Book  unimpaired,  and  to  enjoy  the 
privilege  of  a  free  conscience,  enlightened  and  emboldened 
by  its  truth,  our  forefathers  crossed  the  ocean  with  little 
33 


386  MASSACHUSETTS    BIBLE    SOCIETY. 

more  than  this  volume  in  their  hands,  and  its  spirit  in  their 
hearts ;  and  if  there  is  now  in  the  character  and  circum 
stances  of  their  posterity  anything  worth  preserving,  to 
this  Book  are  we  to  trace  the  good  which  remains,  and  to 
look  also  for  the  improvement  which  is  to  come 

"  He  who  '  came  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  poor,  to 
bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  preach  deliverance  to  the 
captives,  and  recovery  of  sight  to  the  blind,'  when  he  was 
reading  this  very  passage  out  of  the  Book  of  God  in  the  Jew 
ish  synagogue,  added,  '  This  day  is  this  Scripture  fulfilled 
in  your  ears.'  Christians,  we  call  on  you  to  accomplish 
this  prediction  among  us,  by  sending  the  Gospel,  all  simple 
and  salutary  as  it  is,  wherever  it  may  be  wanted ;  —  to  the 
dwellings  of  the  poor  and  distressed  ;  to  the  huts  of  the 
distant  and  solitary ;  to  the  chamber  of  the  prisoner  and 
the  cell  of  the  criminal ;  and  last,  though  not  least,  to  the 
bedside  of  the  old,  whose  eyes,  dimmed  with  the  rheum 

of  age,  can  yet  spell  out  its  contents In  short, 

if  in  some  cases  we  can  only  prolong  the  pleasures  of  aged 
Christians  by  furnishing  them  with  more  legible  copies  of 
their  favorite  volume,  we  shall  not  lose  our  reward  with 
him  who  cannot  forget  the  gift  of  a  cup  of  cold  water  in 
his  name  to  one  of  his  little  ones 

"  The  influence  of  early  instruction  in  the  Scriptures  is 
sometimes  sufficient  to  form  the  destiny  and  give  the  color  to 
the  whole  of  life.  It  is  an  influence  of  which  many  culti 
vated  and  uncultivated  minds  have  been  conscious,  even  after 
they  have  too  much  relinquished  the  good  habits  of  their 
childhood,  and,  among  them,  the  reading  of  the  Bible. 
The  want  of  this  Book  in  a  rising  family,  where  the  parents 
are  poor  and  indifferent,  the  children  ignorant  and  rude, 
and  left  without  the  chance  of  gaining  any  religious  ideas, 
is  a  subject  of  serious  thought  to  the  philanthropist,  who 
only  looks  forward  to  the  character  of  the  next  generation. 
For  from  these  another  race  is  to  be  propagated,  and  in 


ORATION    BEFORE    THE    *    B    K    SOCIETY.  387 

this  new  country  perhaps  other  and  vast  regions  peopled. 
Need  it  be  added,  that  the  Christian  philanthropist  is  obliged 
to  follow  these  fearful  consequences  to  another  and  an  eter 
nal  state  of  existence,  where  it  will  be  too  late  to  instruct 
those  we  have  neglected  here,  and  where  our  charity  can 
neither  ransom  nor  relieve  ?  " 

In  August  of  this  year,  1809,  he  was  appointed  to 
deliver  the  Discourse  before  the  Society  of  Phi  Beta 
Kappa,  at  Harvard  College.  This  is  always  considered 
a  distinguished  honor.  It  is  an  exhilarating  occasion. 
The  discourse  is  addressed  to  the  aristocracy  of  letters 
in  this  corner  of  the  world,  with  the  talent,  learning,  and 
beauty  of  the  neighbourhood  for  an  audience.  He 
chose  for  his  subject  "  The  Dangers  and  Duties  of 
Men  of  Letters."  Read  now,  after  the  lapse  of  forty 
years,  it  has  all  the  charm  and  freshness  of  a  composition 
of  the  day. 

Some  passages  of  this  address  are  as  applicable  to  the 
state  of  our  country  now  as  at  the  lime  when  they  w7ere 
delivered. 

"  Is  there  a  man  who  now  hears  me,  who  would  not 
rather  belong  to  an  enlightened  arid  virtuous  community 
than  to  the  mightiest  empire  of  the  world,  distinguished 
only  by  its  vastness  ?  If  there  is,  let  him  cast  his  eye 
along  the  records  of  states.  What  do  we  know  of  the  vast, 
unlettered  empires  of  the  East  ?  The  far-extended  con 
quests  of  the  Assyrian  hardly  detain  us  a  moment  in  the 
annals  of  the  world,  while  the  little  state  of  Athens  will  for 
ever  be  the  delight  of  the  historian  and  the  pride  of  letters,  — 
preserving,  by  the  genius  of  her  writers,  the  only  remem 
brance  of  the  barbarian  powers  which  overwhelmed  her. 
To  come  down  to  our  own  times  :  who  would  not  rather  have 
been  a  citizen  of  the  free  and  polished  republic  of  Geneva, 


388  ORATION    BEFORE    THE    4>    B    K    SOCIETY. 

than  wander  a  prince  in  the  vast  dominions  of  the  Czar,  or 
bask  in  the  beams  of  the  present  emperor  of  a  desolated 
continent  ? 

"  In  the  usual  course  of  national  aggrandizement,  it  is  al 
most  certain  that  those  of  you  who  shall  attain  to  old  age 
will  find  yourselves  the  citizens  of  an  empire  unparalleled 
in  extent ;  but  is  it  probable  that  you  will  have  the  felicity  of 
belonging  to  a  nation  of  men  of  letters  ?  The  review  of 
our  past  literary  progress  does  not  authorize  very  lofty  ex 
pectations,  neither  does  it  leave  us  entirely  without  hope  for 
the  lettered  honor  of  our  country. 

"  Our  poets  and  historians,  our  critics  and  orators,  the 
men  in  whom  posterity  are  to  stand  in  awe,  and  by  whom 
they  are  to  be  instructed,  are  yet  to  appear  among  us.  The 
men  of  letters  who  are  to  direct  our  taste,  mould  our  genius, 
and  inspire  our  emulation,  —  the  men,  in  fact,  whose  writings 
are  to  be  the  depositories  of  our  national  greatness,  —  have 
not  yet  shown  themselves  to  the  world.  But,  if  we  are  not 
mistaken  in  the  signs  of  the  times,  the  genius  of  our  literature 
begins  to  show  symptoms  of  vigor,  and  to  meditate  a  bolder 
flight,  and  the  generation  which  is  to  succeed  us  will  be 
formed  on  better  models,  and  leave  a  brighter  track.  The 
spirit  of  criticism  begins  to  plume  itself,  and  education,  as  it 
assumes  a  more  learned  form,  will  take  a  higher  aim.  If 
we  are  not  misled  by  our  hopes,  the  dream  of  ignorance  is 
at  least  disturbed,  and  there  are  signs  that  the  period  is  ap 
proaching  in  which  it  will  be  said  of  our  country,  "  Tuus 
jam  regnat  Apollo"  You,  my  young  friends,  are  des 
tined  to  witness  the  dawn  of  our  Augustan  age,  and  to  con 
tribute  to  its  glory." 

One  other  passage  is  added,  upon  the  moral  defects 
to  which  scholars  are  exposed  :  — 

"  The  moral  defects  and  faults  of  temper,  to  which  schol- 


ORATION    BEFORE    THE    $    B    K    SOCIETY.  389 

ars  are  exposed,  are  not  peculiar  to  any  country.  It  is 
everywhere  the  natural  tendency  of  a  life  of  retirement  and 
contemplation  to  generate  the  notion  of  innocence  and  moral 
security ;  but  men  of  letters  should  remember,  that,  in  the 
eye  of  reason  and  Christianity,  simple  unprofitableness  is  al 
ways  a  crime.  They  should  know,  too,  that  there  are  soli 
tary  diseases  of  the  imagination,  not  less  fatal  to  the  mind 
than  the  vices  of  society.  He  who  pollutes  his  fancy  with 
his  books  may  in  fact  be  more  culpable  than  he  who  is  se 
duced  into  the  haunts  of  detbauchery  by  the  force  of  passion 
or  example.  He  who,  by  his  sober  studies,  only  feeds  his 
selfishness  or  his  pride  of  knowledge,  may  be  more  to  blame 
than  the  pedant  or  the  coxcomb  in  literature,  though  not  so 
ridiculous.  That  learning,  whatever  it  may  be,  which  lives 
and  dies  with  the  possessor,  is  more  worthless  than  his 
wealth  which  descends  to  his  posterity ;  arid  where  the  heart 
remains  uncultivated  and  the  affections  sluggish,  the  mere 
man  of  curious  erudition  may  stand  indeed  as  an  object  of 
popular  admiration,  but  he  stands  like  the  occasional  pal 
aces  of  ice  in  the  regions  of  the  north,  the  work  of  vanity, 
lighted  up  with  artificial  lustre,  yet  cold,  useless,  and  unin 
habited,  and  soon  to  pass  away  without  leaving  a  trace  of 
their  existence.  You,  then,  who  feel  yourselves  sinking 
under  the  gentle  pressure  of  sloth,  or  who  seek  in  learned 
seclusion  that  moral  security  which  is  the  reward  only  of 
virtuous  resolution,  remember,  you  do  not  escape  from 
temptations,  much  less  from  responsibility,  by  retiring  to 

the    repose    and   silence    of    your    libraries The 

infirmities  of  noble  minds  are  often  so  consecrated  by  their 
greatness  that  an  unconscious  imitation  of  their  peculiari 
ties,  which  are  real  defects,  may  sometimes  be  pardoned  in 
their  admirers.  But  to  copy  their  vices,  or  to  hunt  in  their 
works  for  those  very  lines  which,  when  dying,  they  would 
most  wish  to  blot,  is  a  different  offence.  I  know  of  nothing 
in  literature  so  unpardonable  as  this.  He  who  poaches 
33* 


390  ORATION  BEFORE    THE    *    B    K    SOCIETY. 

among  the  labors  of  the  learned  only  to  find  what  there  is 
polluted  in  their  language  or  licentious  in  their  works  — 
he  who  searches  the  biographies  of  men  of  genius  to  find 
precedents  for  his  follies  or  palliations  of  his  own  stupid 
depravity  —  can  be  compared  to  nothing  more  appropri 
ately  than  to  the  man  who  should  walk  through  the  gal 
lery  of  antiques,  and  every  day  gaze  upon  the  Apollo,  the 
Venus,  or  the  Laocoon,  and  yet  bring  away  an  imagination 
impressed  with  nothing  but  the  remembrance  that  they  were 
naked."  * 

The  whole  of  this  address  would  repay,  even  at  this 
day,  a  careful  perusal  ;  and,  though  forty  years  have 
passed  since  it  was  written,  the  age  has  not  advanced 
beyond  its  demands.  It  is  rich  in  eloquent  thought, 
and  sparkling  with  gems  of  poetry.  It  must  be  recol 
lected,  that  the  author  lived  and  died  before  the  appear 
ance  of  those  magicians  of  our  age,  to  whom  we  owe 
such  treasures  of  delight  ;  before  Scott's  novels  had 
given  to  history  more  than  the  charm  of  romance  ;  be 
fore  Byron  had  found  such  depths  of  tragic  element 
within  the  human  heart  ;  before  the  transcendentalism  of 
Coleridge,- and  Wordsworth,  and  Channing,  had  become 
familiar  forms  of  speech,  and  Carlyle  and  Dickens  had 
taught  us  to  look  from  the  ruffled  and  spotted  plumage 
of  society  to  the  bleeding  heart  within.  Yet  truth  and 
nature  and  poetry  were  the  same,  and  the  study  of  them 
had  been,  to  him,  "  their  own  exceeding  great  reward." 
There  was  nothing,  even  in  those  compositions  of  his, 
which  were  written  just  as  he  emerged  from  boyhood, 
of  morbid  excess,  or  of  repining  sensibility  ;  and  yet 
there  was  that  in  his  prospect  of  early  death,  or  of  a 
worse  calamity,  to  which  they  might  have  been  for 
given  ;  his  habits  of  study,  his  devotion  to  truth,  his 


LETTER    OF    PRESIDENT    EVERETT.  391 

entire  reliance  upon  the  paternal  character  of  God,  gave 
him  a  perpetual  joy  in  the  intellectual  gifts  he  had  re 
ceived,  and  an  entire  acquiescence  in  the  providence 
which  should  call  him  to  part  with  them. 

To  the  above  I  am  permitted  to  add  the  testimony 
of  one  whose  words  are  ever  chosen,  appropriate,  and 
weighty,  and  whose  genius  seems  to  the  writer  kindred 
to  his  who,  at  so  early  an  age,  made  so  deep  and  perma 
nent  an  impression  on  his  memory.  The  Hon.  Edward 
Everett  thus  recalls  his  impressions  of  the  oration  in 
question  :  — 

"  If  I  should  attempt  to  fix  the  period  at  which  I  first 
felt  all  the  power  of  Mr.  Buckminster's  influence,  it  would 
be  at  the  delivery  of  his  oration  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa 
Society,  in  August,  1809 ;  at  which  time  I  had  been  two 
years  in  college,  but  still  hardly  emerged  from  boyhood. 
That  address,  although  the  standard  of  merit  for  such  per 
formances  is  higher  now  than  it  was  then,  will,  I  think,  still 
be  regarded  as  one  of  the  very  best  of  its  class,  admirably 
appropriate,  thoroughly  meditated,  and  exquisitely  wrought. 
It  unites  sterling  sense,  sound  and  various  scholarship,  pre 
cision  of  thought,  the  utmost  elegance  of  style,  without 
pomp  or  laborious  ornament,  with  a  fervor  and  depth  of 
feeling  truly  evangelical.  These  qualities,  of  course,  are 
preserved  in  the  printed  text  of  the  oration.  But  the  inde 
scribable  charm  of  his  personal  appearance  and  manner,  — 
the  look,  the  voice,  the  gesture  and  attitude,  the  unstudied 
outward  expression  of  the  inward  feeling,  —  of  these  no 
idea  can  be  formed  by  those  who  never  heard  him.  A  bet 
ter  conception  of  what  they  might  have  been  may  probably 
be  gathered  from  the  contemplation  of  Stuart's  portrait 
than  from  any  description.  I  can  never  look  at  it  without 
fancying  I  catch  the  well-remembered  expression  of  the  liv- 


392          LETTER  OF  PRESIDENT  EVERETT. 

ing  eye,  at  once  gentle  and  penetrating,  and  hear  the  most 
melodious  voice,  as  I  firmly  believe,  that  ever  passed  the 

lips  of  man 

"  I  will  only  add,  that  I  think  he  possessed,  in  a  greater 
degree  than  I  have  seen  them  combined  in  one  person,  an 
intellect  of  great  acuteness  and  power,  a  brilliant  imagina 
tion,  a  sound,  practical  judgment,  a  taste  for  literary  re 
search  of  all  sorts,  and  especially  for  critical  learning,  to 
gether  with  an  elevation  of  moral  feeling  approaching  to 
austerity,  (not  in  his  judgments  of  others,  but  in  his  own 
sense  of  duty,)  and  a  devotional  spirit  rapt  and  tender  al 
most  beyond  the  measure  of  humanity.  To  repeat  his  own 
beautiful  quotation,  in  the  address  above  alluded  to,  in  his 
case,  if  ever  among  men,  — 

1  True  prayer 
Has  flowed  from  lips  wet  with  Castalian  dews.' 

"  All  this  he  was  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  when  he  was 
taken  from  us.  Had  he  lived  to  the  ordinary  age  of  man,  it 
seems  to  me  that  he  gave  an  early  assurance  that  he  pos 
sessed  those  intellectual  and  moral  endowments,  which 
would  have  made  him,  in  his  profession,  the  foremost  man 
of  his  country  and  time." 

There  were  other  objects,  upon  which  much  of  his 
time  was  employed,  —  objects  of  utility,  that  brought  to 
him  neither  applause  nor  reputation.  Among  his  papers 
are  memoirs,  subscriptions,  and  prefaces  to  books  and 
proposals,  which  had  only  a  temporary  interest,  and 
have  passed  away  and  are  forgotten.  Among  those 
which  have  since  assumed  a  permanent  and  increasing 
importance  is  the  Athenaeum.  His  letters  have  shown 
how  deep  an  anxiety  he  felt  about  its  prosperity  and  in 
fluence.  In  this  year,  or  the  next,  he  spent  much  time 
in  assisting  to  arrange  and  classify  the  library,  and 


THE    BOSTON    ATHENJEUM.  393 

wrote  the  preface  to  the  published  catalogue.  The  cor 
respondence  between  himself  and  Mr.  William  S.  Shaw, 
while  he  was  in  Europe,  although  previous  to  this  lime, 
is  introduced  here.  It  will  show  how  entire  was  the 
confidence  placed  in  these  two  friends,  and  with  what 
enthusiasm  they  entered  into  the  business.  In  his  pref 
ace  he  says  :  — 

"  The  present  catalogue  will  exhibit  at  once  our  riches 
and  our  poverty ;  it  will  show  to  the  world  what  we  have 
amassed,  and  suggest  to  future  benefactors  what  we  yet 
hope  to  collect.  When  we  recollect,  that,  four  years  ago, 
this  institution  existed  only  in  the  hopes  and  projects  of  a 
few  reading  men,  and  that,  from  a  sjerm  almost  impercepti 
ble,  it  has  grown  into  the  present  generous  establishment, 
we  can  hardly  repress  our  exultation 

"  If  the  time  should  ever  come,  which  we  fondly  expect, 
when  a  superb  structure  shall  be  raised  in  this  town,  wherein 
to  deposit  the  crowded  treasures  and  the  precious  collec 
tions  of  this  literary  institution,  and  the  Historical  Society 
shall  consent  to  unite  our  common  possessions  upon  the 
subject  of  American  history,  we  shall  then  have  approached 
nearer  to  the  accomplishment  of  our  darling  object,  the  for 
mation  of  an  American  Library  worthy  of  the  country."  * 

"Boston,  Dec.  1st,  1806. 

"DEAR  BUCKMINSTER,  —  I  know  you  will  be  delighted 
to  hear  of  the  progress  we  have  made  in  the  reading-room 
and  library,  which  has  much  surpassed  the  expectations  of 
even  the  most  sanguine  of  us.  We  have  one  hundred  and 
sixty  subscribers  at  ten  dollars  a  year,  consisting  of  the 
most  respectable  gentlemen  in  Boston,  with  the  probability 

*  The  above  extracts  are  taken  from  the  manuscript  of  the  preface, 
in  my  brother's  handwriting. 


394  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

of  having  two  hundred  subscribers  at  least,  the  moment  the 
rooms  are  opened.  We  have  taken  rooms  in  Congress 
Street,  in  what  are  called  Joy's  Buildings,  which  we  shall 
occupy  till  the  spring,  when  we  expect  to  be  able  to  procure 
more  commodious  rooms.  We  have  had  nearly  a  thousand 
volumes  of  valuable  books  presented  to  us,  and  one  hun 
dred  and  sixty  dollars  in  cash.  The  institution  is  a  very 
popular  one,  and  there  is  a  strong  inclination  discovered  to 
patronize  it  on  a  very  extensive  plan,  and  I  have  very  little 
doubt  that  in  a  few  years  we  shall  see  a  library  in  our  be 
loved  Boston,  inferior  to  none  in  America.  If  we  do  not, 
it  will  be  owing  altogether  to  want  of  exertion  on  the  part 
of  our  literary  men,  whose  duty  it  is  to  awake  from  their 
stupid  lethargy,  and  to  rescue  our  country  from  the  scorn 
and  derision  which  now  lie  so  heavily  upon  her. 

"  We  propose  that  the  whole  property  of  the  institution 
shall  be  vested  in  a  number  of  trustees,  not  exceeding 
eleven,  seven  of  whom  to  be  chosen  from  the  Anthology 
Society,  the  remaining  four  to  be  gentlemen  out  of  the 
Society,  the  Trustees  thus  chosen  to  have  the  sole  and 
exclusive  management  of  the  institution.  Dr.  Kirkland, 
Mr.  Emerson,  Peter  Thacher,  Walter,  and  myself,  are  chosen 
from  the  Anthology  Society,  and  we  intend  to  choose  your 
honor  to  be  one  the  moment  you  come  hojne.  Chief  Justice 
Parsons,  Mr.  John  Lowell,  Mr.  Freeman,  we  have  also 
chosen,  none  of  whom  have  yet  made  known  their  ac 
ceptance  but  Mr.  Parsons,  who  very  readily  complied  with 
our  request,  much  to  the  joy  of  us  all.  As  soon  as  the 
Trustees  can  be  called  together,  they  are  to  choose  a  Presi 
dent,  Vice-President,  Recording  and  Corresponding  Secre 
taries,  Treasurer,  &c.  Mr.  Parsons  is  to  be  chosen  Presi 
dent,  Walter  will  probably  be  chosen  Corresponding  Secre 
tary,  and  your  humble  servant,  Recorder. 

"  In  drawing  up  the  regulations,  we  have  followed  very 
closely  the  laws  of  the  Athenaeum  of  Liverpool,  for  which 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  395 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  your  kindness  in  transmitting 
immediately  on  your  arrival  at  Liverpool.  It  is  an  admira 
ble  institution,  and  we  intend  to  make  ours  as  much  like 
that  as  the  different  circumstances  of  the  two  countries  will 
admit.  I  pray  you  to  make  it  an  object  to  collect  as  much 
information,  as  will  be  in  your  power  respecting  all  literary 
societies,  catalogues  of  their  libraries,  their  laws,  &c.,  &c. 
They  will  be  pleasant  to  have  in  our  reading-room  at  least, 
and  they  may  be  made  useful  in  America,  to  stimulate  our 
countrymen  to  some  important  mental  exertions.  I  wish 
you  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  avail  yourself  of  the  ad 
vantages  your  residence  in  London  this  winter  will  afford 
you,  to  collect  information  relative  to  the  literature  of  Eng 
land,  their  colleges,  their  schools,  their  scientific  institutions, 
their  literary  men,  &c.,  &c.,  and  publish  a  series  of  papers 
in  our  dearly  cherished  Anthology  on  the  present  state  of 
English  literature,  which  I  am  very  certain  would  be  novel, 
interesting,  and  useful  to  the  people  of  this  country.  Write 
a  series  of  letters  from  England  to  us  in  America,  as 
Laharpe  wrote  from  Paris  to  the  Emperor  Paul  the  First, 
of  Russia.  He  was  engaged  in  a  correspondence  with  the 
Emperor  for  five  years,  which,  since  Laharpe's  death,  has 
been  published  in  four  volumes.  He  sent  to  the  young 
prince  all  the  literary  and  political  news  of  Paris,  and  judged 
of  men  and  books  with  all  the  freedom  which  a  literary 
correspondence  admits.  The  work  is  wonderfully  inter 
esting.  It  will  be  read  by  men  of  letters  and  men  of 
fashion.  The  first  will  find  much  correct  criticism,  the  sec 
ond  pleasant  anecdote,  and  all  variety,  which,  you  know,  is 
always  charming. 

"  I  inclose  to  you  with  this  a  bill  of  exchange,  payable 
to  you,  and  drawn  upon  Samuel  Williams,  Esquire,  for  six 
hundred  dollars,  five  hundred  of  which  are  to  be  expended 
in  procuring  books  for  the  reading-room,  and  to  be  sent 
out  as  early  in  the  spring  as  possible.  The  intention  of 


396          LETTERS  OF  WILLIAM  S.  SHAW. 

the  Trustees  is  to  appropriate  the  money  arising  from  sub 
scriptions  as  follows  :  —  After  the  necessary  expenses  of  the 
institution  are  paid,  the  first  object  will  be  to  provide  for 
the  rooms  all  the  celebrated  gazettes  published  in  any  part 
of  the  United  States.  The  most  interesting  literary  and 
political  pamphlets  in  Europe  arid  America,  magazines, 
reviews,  and  scientific  journals,  in  the  English  and  French 
languages,  London  and  Paris  newspapers,  Steel's  Army  and 
Navy  List,  Naval  Chronicle,  London  and  Paris  booksellers' 
catalogues,  parliamentary  debates,  bibliographical  works, 
voyages  and  travels,  valuable  maps  and  charts.  The  ga 
zettes  and  pamphlets  of  our  own  country  we  can  of  course 
procure  without  troubling  you  ;  but  we  wish  you  to  take 
such  measures  as  will  insure  to  us  the  early  transmission 
of  all  interesting  pamphlets  published  in  England  on  im 
portant  subjects,  the  average  amount  for  the  year  not  to 
exceed  three  dollars  per  month;  that  is,  we  are  willing  to 
appropriate  thirty-six  dollars  a  year  of  our  funds  for  Eng 
lish  pamphlets,  including  booksellers'  catalogues.  If  your 
friends,  Mr.  Sam.  or  Francis  Williams,  could  be  persuaded 
to  undertake  this  commission  after  you  leave  England,  they 
would  be  the  best  men  in  the  world  for  this  purpose.  At 
any  rate,  we  shall  depend  on  your  selecting  some  person 
of  judgment,  in  whom  we  may  confide  for  the  punctual 
discharge  of  this  part  of  our  engagement  to  supply  the 
room  with  English  pamphlets. 

"  English  magazines,  reviews,  &c.  These  publications 
we  have  thought  it  most  expedient  to  procure,  for  the  present, 
at  least,  through  the  agency  of  Mr.  William  Skinner,  an 
English  gentleman  connected  with  a  house  in  London, 
whose  card  I  inclose  you,  and  would  wish  you  to  call  upon 
them,  and  converse  with  them  on  the  objects  of  the  institu 
tion,  and  urge  upon  them  the  necessity  of  most  punctual 
communication.  I  inclose  to  you,  with  this,  a  list  of  all  the 
publications  we  have  ordered  from  England,  with  a  request 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  397 

that  you  would  order  any  others  you  should  think  proper. 
We  wish  particularly  for  Dr.  Aikin's  new  magazine,  the 
Athenaeum,  Arthur  Aikin's  Annual  Review  to  be  sent  out 
in  numbers,  beginning  with  the  first  number  of  the  fifth 
volume,  and  indeed  for  all  the  distinguished  periodical  jour 
nals  in  England.  If  you  think,  therefore,  that  we  have  not 
ordered  a  sufficient  number,  you  are  at  perfect  liberty  to 
make  any  additions  you  please.  You  will  observe  that  we 
have  only  sent  for  three  newspapers,  —  the  Morning  Chron 
icle,  the  Courier,  and  Bell's  Weekly  Messenger,  —  which  are 
as  many  as  we  thought  our  funds  would  allow  of  at  present. 
If  you  think  we  ought  to  have  one  more,  you  may  direct 
it  to  be  sent  out  to  us.  To  collect  valuable  maps  and  charts 
is  one  of  the  prime  objects  of  the  institution,  and  ought  to  be 
immediately  attended  to.  You  will  therefore  appropriate  a 
part  of  the  money  sent  you  with  this  (say,  perhaps,  one  hun 
dred  dollars)  to  the  purchasing  of  two  or  three  good  At 
lases  of  standard  reputation. 

u  After  having  furnished  the  room  with  newspapers,  maga 
zines,  maps  and"  charts,  &c.,  &c.,  as  above  mentioned, 
the  second  object  of  the  Trustees  will  be  to  supply  the 
library  with  the  most  valuable  encyclopedias  of  the  arts 
and  sciences  in  the  French  and  English  languages,  with 
standard  dictionaries  of  the  learned  and  modern  languages, 
also  dictionaries,  critical,  biographical,  &c.,  and  books  of 
general  reference  useful  to  the  merchant  and  scholar.  We 
have  already  procured  the  American  edition  of  Rees's  En 
cyclopedia,  as  far  as  it  has  been  published.  We  have  also 
had  presented  to  us  a  superb  edition  of  Dr.  Aikin's  John 
son's  Dictionary,  in  four  large  octavo  volumes,  by  my  friend, 
Joseph  Tilden.  Books  printed  on  the  Continent  we  can 
probably  purchase  cheaper  by  sending  to  Paris  and  Hol 
land  than  you  could  be  able  to  procure  them  in  London. 
I  should  not  therefore  advise  you  to  purchase  books  of 
this  kind  ;  but  of  this  you  will  be  a  much  better  judge  than 
34  " 


398  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

myself.  I  merely  mention  it  by  way  of  suggestion,  leaving 
it  entirely  to  your  discretion.  Some  of  the  money,  I  should 
think,  ought  to  be  appropriated  to  purchase  standard  works 
upon  commerce  and  books  of  useful  reference  to  the  mer 
chants,  as  most  of  our  subscribers  are  of  this  class.  Mr. 
Samuel  Williams  could  recommend  to  you  some  books  of 
this  kind.  There  is  a  work  on  this  subject  reviewed  in  the 
sixteenth  number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  entitled.  I  be 
lieve,  Macpherson's  Annals  of  Commerce,  which  I  should 
think  we  ought  to  have.  You  ought  to  send  us  out  also  some 
miscellaneous  books,  useful  to  the  loungers,  —  such,  perhaps, 
as  a  complete  edition  of  the  English  classics,  such  as  the 
Spectator,  Guardian,  &c.,  with  Drake's  Essays  on  these 
periodical  writers,  &c.,  &c.  The  books  you  purchase  must 
be  all  good  editions,  printed  on  good  paper,  and  well  bound  ; 
but  take  care  not  to  be  too  extravagant.  I  have  thus,  my 
dear  Buckminster,  detailed  to  you  the  objects  to  which  we 
conceive  the  income  of  our  institution  ought  for  the  present 
to  be  appropriated,  and,  with  this  information,  send  the  five 
hundred  dollars  to  you,  to  procure  such  bo*oks  for  the  insti 
tution  as  your  judgment  shall  dictate,  with  an  entire  confi 
dence  that  the  money  will  be  appropriated  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  will  advance  the  interests  and  extend  the  patronage 
of  the  establishment,  which  I  am  very  sensible  you  have 
much  at  heart.  All  the  newspapers  and  literary  publica 
tions,  which  we  procure  through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Skin 
ner,  we  expect  to  pay  for  here,  and  have  made  our  arrange 
ments  accordingly. 

"  You  must  be  very  sensible,  that  the  success  of  an  in 
stitution  like  ours  will  depend  very  much  on  the  punctuality 
and  despatch  with  which  we  receive  our  foreign  newspapers, 
pamphlets,  new  books,  and  periodical  publications.  I  can 
not  urge  upon  you>  therefore,  too  strongly,  the  necessity  of 
adopting  such  measures,  before  you  embark  for  this  coun 
try,  as  will  best  secure  to  us  these  great  objects.  I  would 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  399 

beg  leave  to  suggest  to  you  the  expediency  of  selecting 
a  confidential  bookseller  in  London ;  promise  that  we  will 
purchase  all  our  books  of  him  ;  let  him  supply  us  with  all 
our  newspapers,  magazines,  &c.,  —  in  short,  everything  we 
shall  want  from  England  ;  tell  him  that  our  institution  prom 
ises  to  be  a  permanent  one,  —  that  we  shall  probably  send  to 
England  from  one  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars  per 
year,  to  be  expended  in  books.  With  such  inducements,  I 
should  think,  some  one  might  be  persuaded  to  make  con 
siderable  exertion  to  comply  with  our  requisitions.  If  you 
should  adopt  any  plan  of  this  kind,  you  must  give  informa 
tion  to  Skinner's  house,  in  London. 

"  I  send  you  one  hundred  dollars,  on  my  own  account, 
with  which  I  wish  you  to  procure  for  me  the  best  edition 
of  Shakspeare's  plays,  with  all  the  prefaces,  notes,  com 
mentaries,  &c.,  which  I  suppose  to  be  Reid's  ;  Dr.  Aikin's 
edition  of  Dr.  Johnson's  Dictionary,  in  four  volumes,  octavo, 
both  to  be  well  bound  in  calf;  Dibdin's  bibliographical  works ; 
and,  if  these  should  not  amount  to  one  hundred  dollars,  any 
other  books  you  may  please  to  procure  for  me.  Alas  !  I 
have  no  more  time  to  write  at  present.  Remember  me 
most  affectionately  to  Mr.  Thacher.  Consult  him  about  the 
reading-room.  Love  me  always,  and  believe  me  to  be  most 
sincerely  yours,  most  affectionately, 

"  WM.  S.  SHAW." 

"  Boston,  13th  December,  1806. 

"  DEAR  BUCKMINSTER,  —  I  wrote  to  you  by  the  Galen  a 
long  letter,  and  inclosed  you  a  bill  of  exchange,  drawn  upon 
Samuel  Williams,  Esquire,  for  six  hundred  dollars,  which 
letter  I  presume  you  have  received.  It  ought  to  be  a  consid 
erable  object,  I  should  think,  in  the  purchase  of  books  for 
our  library,  to  procure  such  valuable  works  as  are  least  com 
mon  in  this  town,  and  most  difficult  to  be  procured  in  this 
country.  The  publications  relative  to  the  literary  fund  in 
England  I  have  never  seen  in  this  country,  and,  if  they 


400          LETTERS  OF  WILLIAM  S.  SHAW. 

have  any  merit,  I  think  you  had  best  procure  them. 
Horsley  on  Virgil's  Seasons  of  Honey  —  I  forget  the  title  of 
the  work  —  would  be  a  novelty  here.  I  want  you  also  to 
procure,  either  for  the  reading-room  or  for  me,  '  A  View 
of  the  Causes  and  Consequences  of  the  American  Revolu 
tion,  in  thirteen  Discourses,  preached  in  North  America,  be 
tween  the  years  1763  and  1775,  by  Jonathan  Boucher, 
Vicar  of  Epsom,  in  the  County  of  Surrey.'  Rare  books  rela 
tive  to  the  history  of  this  country  or  the  West  India  islands, 
&c.,  &c.,  ought  to  be  obtained.  The  publications  of  liter 
ary  associations  of  eminence  in  Great  Britain  we  ought  to 
procure.  Perhaps  such  letters  might  be  addressed  to  the 
societies  as  would  induce  them  to  present  copies  of  their 
publications  to  our  institution  ;  but  of  this  you  are  the  better 
judge.  I  send  you  inclosed,  with  this,  ten  copies  of  our 
prospectus,  that  you  may  distribute  them  in  a  manner  most 
likely  to  promote  the  great  objects  of  our  institution.  In 
my  last,  I  suggested  to  you  the  expediency  of  selecting 
some  bookseller  in  London  who  would  undertake  to  supply 
us  with  everything  we  wanted,  and  who  would  be  responsi 
ble  for  the  punctual  and  early  transmission  of  all  our  news 
papers  and  literary  publications.  This  is  a  very  great,  ob 
ject,  and  the  prosperity  and  advancement  of  the  institution 
depends  very  much  on  the  success  of  our  exertions  in  this 
particular.  I  would  further  suggest,  whether  it  would  not 
be  possible  to  make  some  arrangements  with  the  Athenae 
um  and  Lyceum  of  Liverpool,  that  would  operate  benefi 
cially  to  our  establishment.  The  librarian  of  those  institu 
tions  might  possibly  be  induced  to  send  us  some  of  the  nu 
merous  publications  which  they  receive.  I  have  frequently 
seen,  in  this  town,  at  our  printing  offices,  English  newspa 
pers,  with  the  name  of  Athenseum  stamped  upon  them,  and 
which,  I  have  understood,  came  from  that  institution.  These 
institutions  must  receive  a  number  of  newspapers,  maga 
zines,  &c.,&c.,  and  often  duplicates  which  they  do  not  care 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  401 

to  preserve,  and  would  be  willing  to  send  them  to  us  at  a 
very  low  price ;  also,  political  pamphlets. 

"  I  think  you  might  also  advance  the  interests  of  our  es 
tablishment  by  conversing  with  the  Americans,  particularly 
the  Bostonians,  in  England,  on  the  utility  and  the  pleasure 
which  will  probably  be  afforded  by  an  institution  on  our 
plan.  In  my  exertions  here,  I  have  generally  succeeded 
beyond  my  most  sanguine  expectations,  in  obtaining  sub 
scriptions,  and  donations  in  books  as  well  as  money.  The 
plan  is  a  very  popular  one,  and  almost  every  one  is  desirous 
of  doing  something  to  promote  its  objects.  If  you  choose 
to  exercise  the  influence  which  I  know  you  must  possess 
over  your  American  acquaintance  in  England,  and  I  think 
it  is  your  duty  to  do  it,  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  you  might 
obtain  some  very  valuable  donations  to  the  library.  I 
should  advise  you  to  give  one  of  our  pamphlets  to  every 
generous  American,  with  some  observations  which  may  in 
duce  them  to  make  some  exertion  to  promote  the  interests 
of  the  establishment.  There  are  many  Englishmen,  such 
as  Sir  John  Sinclair,  &c.,  who  are  pleased  to  take  a  very 
lively  interest  in  everything  relative  to  American  affairs, 
and  who,  I  have  no  doubt,  would  be  very  much  delighted  in 
promoting  the  objects  of  our  establishment.  These  gen 
tlemen  might  be  very  useful  in  influencing  the  learned  so 
cieties  to  make  donations  of  their  publications.  I  should 
also  think  it  very  proper  to  establish  a  correspondence  with 
some  learned  men  in  England,  to  whom  we  might  be  per 
mitted  to  write  in  behalf  of  the  institution,  and  who  might 
be  the  means  of  our  procuring  rare,  valuable  works,  out  of 
print,  which  we  could  not  otherwise  obtain.  Mr.  Benjamin 
Vaughan,  here,  has  recommended  us  to  his  brother  Wil 
liam,  and  has  promised  to  give  us  letters  to  him.  In  my 
former  letter,  I  requested  you  to  procure  some  books  of 
reputation  for  the  merchants.  In  addition,  I  would  suggest 
to  you  the  propriety  of  purchasing  Oddy's  European  Com- 
34* 


402  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

merce,  reviewed  in  the  Monthly  Review  for  August  last.  I 
send  you,  with  this,  a  second  bill  of  exchange,  drawn  upon 
Samuel  Williams,  Esq.,  for  six  hundred  dollars  ;  five  hundred 
to  be  laid  out  in  books  for  the  reading-room,  as  I  wrote  in 
my  former  letter,  and  one  hundred  on  my  own  account,  — 
to  procure  the  best  edition  of  Shakspeare,  which  I  suppose 
to  be  Reid's,  Johnson's  Dictionary  by  Dr.  Aikin,  Dibdin's 
bibliographical  works,  to  which  I  would  add  the  Biblio 
graphical  Dictionary,  similar  to  the  one  which  Mr.  Emerson 
had.  If  these  books  should  amount  to  a  greater  sum  than 
one  hundred  dollars,  which  I  presume  they  will,  I  can  only 
promise  to  pay  the  bill  whenever  it  shall  be  presented.  If 
you  lay  out  the  whole  six  hundred  dollars  at  one  bookstore, 
you  will,  of  course,  procure  the  books  much  cheaper. 

"  The  gentlemen  of  the  Anthology  Society  desire  to  be 
particularly  remembered  to  you  and  our  friend  Thacher. 
We  now  meet  in  Congress  Street,  under  the  same  roof  with 
the  reading-room,  and  Cooper,  who  is  to  keep  the  library, 
provides  for  us.  Our  subscribers  gradually  increase,  and 
the  publication  seems  to  be  rising  in  reputation.  The  book 
sellers  and  printers  begin  to  think  us  of  some  consequence, 
and  send  us  most  of  their  publications.  We  frequently  drink 
a  bumper  to  the  health  of  our  good  friends  in  Europe,  and, 
with  much  sincerity,  wish  them  pleasure  and  improvement 
from  their  travels.  We  often  regret  that  we  have  not  been 
favored  with  some  communications  for  the  Anthology,  but 
anticipate  with  pleasure  the  time  when  they  will  come  en 
masse.  Mr.  Thacher  must  not  fail  to  fulfil  his  promise,  and 
we  expect  a  whole  budget  in  the  spring.  Phillips,  in  London, 
has  sent  us  an  answer  to  the  letter  which  we  wrote  to  him 
last  spring,  thanking  us  for  the  numbers  of  the  Anthology 
which  we  sent  him,  speaking  in  a  very  flattering  manner 
of  the  publication,  and  saying  that  he  should  be  very  happy 
to  interchange  with  us ;  but  he  has  as  yet  sent  us  none  of  his 
numbers.  If  it  is  not  too  much  trouble,  I  wish  either  you 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  403 

or  Thacher  would  call  upon  him,  and  converse  with  him  on 
the  subject.  I  should  think  it  would  be  worth  while  to  make 
the  same  attempt  of  an  interchange  with  other  periodical 
publications  in  London.  I  also  wish  that  one  of  you  would 
cause  the  plan  of  our  institution  to  be  published  in  the 
Monthly  Magazine,  and  perhaps  some  other  publication, 
with  such  observations  as  you  may  think  proper.  Pro 
fessors  McKean  and  Willard  are  on  nomination  for  mem 
bers  of  our  society.  You  have  already  heard  of  Dr.  Kirk- 
land  being  a  member,  and  we  find  him  very  pleasant  as 
a  sociable  man.  We  have  now  completed  our  third  vol 
ume,  and  we  flatter  ourselves  that  the  last  is  very  much  the 
best.  We  commence  the  new  year  with  a  firm  determina 
tion  to  persevere,  and  we  flatter  ourselves,  that,  with  our 
own  exertions,  and  with  such  foreign  aid  as  we  may  pro 
cure,  we  shall  be  able  to  make  the  publication  still  more 
valuable. 

"  I  promised  my  curious  friend,  Harris,  whom  I  once  in 
troduced  to  you,  that  I  would  make  some  inquiries  of  you  in 
his  behalf.  In  the  second  volume  of  the  American  Biogra 
phy,  Dr.  Belknap  mentions  arrows  headed  with  brass  be 
ing  shot  at  a  party  of  Englishmen,  by  the  Indians  of  Mas 
sachusetts,  and  that  they  were  sent  to  England  as  curiosi 
ties.  Now  he  wishes,  that,  if  you  meet  with  any  such, 
you  will  critically  examine  them.  He  can  account  for  the 
Indians  having  copper,  by  supposing  that  they  found  it  in  its 
natural  state,  but  brass  is  an  artificial  metal.  It  would  favor 
his  theory,  if  these  arrows'  heads  should  prove  to  be  square, 
brass  coins,  such  as  were  found  at  Medford." 

"  Boston,  31st  December,  1806. 

"  MY  DEAR  BUCKMINSTER,  —  Not  knowing  how  early  the 
Galen  might  go  this  morning,  I  put  my  letter  into  the  letter- 
bag  last  evening,  and,  as  the  ship  does  not  sail  till  this  after 
noon,  I  have  an  opportunity  of  which,  I  assure  you,  I  readi- 


404  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

ly  avail  myself,  of  writing  you  again.  I  also  send  you,  in  a 
package,  directed  to  Mr.  Samuel  Williams,  twenty  copies  of 
the  regulations  of  our  library,  on  which  I  have  written  '  Not 
to  be  delivered  till  the  ship  arrives  in  London.'  As  the 
rooms  are  not  to  be  opened  until  the  1st  of  January,  1807, 
the  printers  delayed  striking  them  off,  so  that  I  did  not  get 
them  till  late  last  evening,  and  was  obliged  to  send  them 
immediately  on  board  the  ship.  On  looking  over  them,  I 
find  there  are  several  typographical  errors,  particularly  in 
the  list  of  French  journals  and  the  last  page,  which  I  wish 
you  to  correct.  In  my  list  of  periodical  publications,  sent  to 
Skinner's  house,  in  London,  I  wrote  for  the  Naval  Chroni 
cle  and  Curtis's  Botanical  Magazine,  to  be  sent,  out  from 
some  number  in  this  year  ;  but  we  wish  for  these  works 
from  their  commencement,  the  volumes  to  be  bound.  In 
the  same  parcel  you  will  find  Sherman's  account  of  the 
proceedings  of  the  council,  which,  thinking  it  might  afford 
you  some  amusement,  I  persuaded  Dr.  Kirkland  to  give  me, 
to  send  to  you. 

"  In  the  literary  way,  I  have  not  much  to  tell  you.  Brad 
ford  has  printed  four  parts  of  Rees's  Cyclopedia,  which,  in 
typographical  execution,  is  certainly  not  inferior,  in  any  re 
spect,  to  the  English  edition.  The  plates,  too,  are  incom 
parably  well  executed. 

"The  memoirs  of  Dr.  Priestley  you  have  probably  read 
in  London,  but  the  literary  world  receive  no  great  accession 
to  their  stock  of  knowledge  from  this  source.  I  was  most 
wretchedly  disappointed  in  perusing  these  volumes.  West 
&  Greenleaf  are  publishing  in  this  town  a  very  good 
edition  of  Burke's  works,  in  four  volumes,  which  they  sell 
for  eight  dollars.  The  first  volume  is  out  of  press,  and  is 
a  fine  specimen  of  American  typography.  Jos.  Dennie's 
Portfolio  has  been  supported  with  less  talent  this  year  than 
any  former  years,  and  the  Miscellany  died  a  natural  death 
last  Commencement." 


LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  405 

"  London,  March  10th,  1807. 

"  MY  DEAR  SHAW,  —  I  have  laid  out  all  your  draft  in 
books,  which  I  hope  will  be  useful,  though  they  were  nec 
essarily  selected  with  so  much  precipitation,  that  I  fear  they 
will  not  all  be  approved.  The  works  on  commerce  I  send 
because  they  are  the  best,  and  because  you  mentioned  some 
of  them.  Chalmers's  British  Essayists,  because  particularly 
mentioned  in  your  letter  ;  the  same  with  Virgil's  Seasons 
of  Honey.  In  the  article  dictionaries,  I  was  unwilling 
to  give  ten  or  twelve  guineas  for  Facciolati's,  when  you 
may  get  it  for  seventy-five  guilders  in  Holland  ;  or  five 
guineas  for  an  Elzivir  Scapula,  when  I  think  it  may  be 
found  in  Boston  for  much  less ;  or  fourteen  guineas  for 
Stephens's  Greek  Thesaurus,  when  I  know  it  can  be  pro 
cured  for  much  less  in  Paris.  Kennicott's  Bible,  and  Ca- 
lupo's  Concordance,  I  bought  because  they  were  cheap.  If 
they  are  not  wanted,  sell  them  to  Bowdoin  College.  A 
copy  of  Walton's  Polyglott,  with  Castell's  Lexicon,  can 
hardly  be  procured  here  at  any  price.  Of  the  new  books 
which  appeared  last  year,  I  send  two  or  three  of  the  most 
valuable ;  but  I  know  not  what  you  have  already,  and  there 
fore  I  buy  new  books  with  caution.  The  only  book  I  regret 
having  bought  is  Thuanus,  for  I  know  it  will  not  be  valued 
or  read.  You  ought  to  have  a  set  of  the  British  Poets.  I 
shall  bring  out  some  one  edition,  which  you  can  take  or 
not,  as  you  please.  Those  maps,  which  I  send,  you  can  use 
tfll  my  return.  In  the  mean  while,  you  will  determine 
whether  you  will  order  a  set  on  spring  rollers.  The  four 
quarters  of  the  world,  East  Indies,  Pacific,  and  South 
America,  will  cost  you  between  fifty  and  sixty  guineas. 
Curtis's  is  too  expensive  to  make  part  of  the  present  invoice. 
I  am  extremely  sorry  that  the  books  could  not  be  got 
ready  for  the  new  Galen.  It  is  the  delay  of  the  binder 
which  has  prevented.  I  shall  certainly  put  them  on  board 


406  LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

the  old  Galen,  or  Samuel  Wells's  vessel,  which  will  sail  in  a 
fortnight.  Among  the  books  which  I  have  bought  for  my 
self,  there  are  several  which  have  that  character  of  rarity, 
as  well  as  excellence,  which  you  seem  to  demand,  and 
which,  upon  my  return,  the  Athenceum  may  take  at  the 
price  which  they  cost  me. 

"  There  still  remain  in  P.'s  hands,  towards  your  next 
draft,  —  but  I  believe  I  shall  send  them  out  immediately, 
upon  credit,  —  Hoffman's  Lexicon  Universale  (either  this 
or  Pitiscus  is  indispensable  to  a  classical  student  ;  judice, 
Dr.  Parr) ;  Curtis's  Bot.  Mag.,  from  the  commencement ;  a 
set  of  British  Poets  (Anderson's  cheapest  and  most  com 
plete,  Johnson's  most  convenient  but  scarce,  Sharp's  very 
elegant  and  dear  ;  —  tell  me  which  you  prefer  for  the  read 
ing-room)  ;  Alberti's  Italian  Dictionary  ;  and  several  new 
publications. 

"  Tell  my  theological  friends  that  the  second  volume  of 
Griesbach  has  appeared,  and  I  "have  taken  care  that  the 
Duke  of  Grafton  be  reminded  that  he  had  the  goodness  to 
present  a  large  paper  copy  of  the  first  volume  to  the  Uni 
versity  at  Cambridge.  I  hope  they  will  receive  the  second 
in  the  course  of  the  summer. 

"  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  there  are  now  one  or  two  op 
portunities  in  Boston  of  adding  to  your  institution  two  or 
three  extremely  valuable  works,  from  the  libraries  of  per 
sons  deceased.  Would  to  God  they  were  alive  !  But,  His 
will  be  done !  This  circumstance  has  prevented  me  from 
purchasing  Wetstein,  Winklemann,  the  Monthly  Review 
complete,  etc. 

"  Here  follows  a  list  of  standard  works,  for  which  I  think 
you  may  send  to  Holland  with  more  advantage  than  to 
any  other  place,  except  Hamburg.  [Omitted.] 

"  I  shall  have  a  notice  of  your  institution  inserted  in  the 
Athenaeum,  here,  but  it  will  not  excite  any  interest,  reading- 


LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAAV.  407 

rooms  and   public  libraries  being  so  common  in  every  part 
of  England  and  Ireland.     Yours,  affectionately, 

"  J.  S.  B." 

"  London,  April  3d,  1807. 

"My  DEAR  SHAW,  —  At  length  1  have  finished  the  pur 
chase  of  books  for  the  reading-room,  and  have  exceeded,  by 
nearly  thirty  pounds,  my  commission  and  your  bill  of  ex 
change.  If  you  disapprove  of  any  of  the  purchases,  as, 
upon  second  thoughts,  I  have,  in  two  or  three  instances,  you 
are  welcome  to  return  them  to  me  when  I  reach  America. 
My  theological  friends  may  blame  me  for  omitting  Kenni- 
cott,  but  they  would-  blame  me  still  more  if  they  knew  the 
reason,  which  is,  that  nobody  would  consult  the  volumes, 
except  those  who  ought  to  possess  and  use  them  daily. 
I  have  sent  no  general  Atlas,  because  there  is  none  worth 
sending,  and  because  Pinkerton  has  announced  the  publica 
tion  of  a  grand  one,  which  is  to  supersede  all  others.  I 
have  procured  Priestley  (bookseller)  to  subscribe  early  in 
behalf  of  the  Athenaeum,  Boston.  If  you  still  wish  one 
immediately,  you  may  take  one  which  Faden  has  selected 
for  me  here,  and  for  which  I  gave  him  nine  guineas.  You 
may  take  it  at  what  it  shall  cost  me. 

"  Of  this  invoice,  several  books  were  purchased  merely 
in  conformity  to  your  instructions,  and  these,  unluckily,  swell 
the  bill  much,  —  e.  g.  Naval  Chronicle  and  Curtis's  Botanical 
Magazine,  from  the  beginning,  and  four  or  five  expensive 
works  on  commerce.  About  a  dozen  works  I  have  sent  out* 
because  they  were  new,  and  it  should  be  an  important  ob 
ject  in  your  establishment  to  have  all  the  new  publications. 
Those  that  are  worth  keeping  you  can  keep,  and  the  others 
you  may  sell  at  the  end  of  a  year  or  two.  I  began  to  make 
out  a  list  of  late  works  for  you,  but  was  soon  obliged  to 
stop,  from  the  difficulty  of  selection.  Upon  the  whole,  I 
believe  you  must  allow  me  to  give  a  general  order  for  all 


408  LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

new  works.  As  to  those  I  have  sent,  I  cannot  say  they 
are  all  of  superior  merit ;  but  I  suspect  the  least  valuable 
will  be  the  most  popular.  I  am  not  sure  that  Blair's  Chro 
nology  is  better  than  Playfair's.  One  or  the  other,  I  think, 
you  ought  to  have.  D'Anville's  maps  are  excellent,  it  is 
well  known  ;  but  I  believe  that  Laurie  &  Whittier's  edition 
is  poorly  engraved,  but  it  is  the  only  one  I  could  find.  At 
any  rate,  D'Anville's  is  to  be  preferred,  I  think,  to  Wilken- 
son's.  Of  Miller's  Gardener's  Dictionary,  Chalmers's  Brit 
ish  Essayists,  and  Pinkerton's  new  editions,  there  will  be, 

I  think,  but  one  opinion  as  to  their  value 

"  As  to  Eber's  German  Dictionary,  it  is  the  best,  and  if 
the  reading-room  does  not  want  it,  I  do.  Gregory's  Cyclo 
pedia  is  a  very  salable  book,  if  you  choose  to  part  with  it. 
Pitiscus  is  indispensable  to  a  classical  student ;  so  is  Hoff 
man's  Lexicon.  This  latter  I  have  bought  for  myself,  and 
I  advise  you  to  send  for  it  in  your  next  order.  Maton, 
Drummond,  Mackenzie,  Foster,  Knight,  Pitts,  Lives  of  Gray, 
Kaimes,  etc.,  are  among  the  new  books.  But  I  repeat, 
again,  that  I  cannot  undertake  to  make  a  selection  from 
them.  How  far  back  must  I  go?  You  must  have  all  the 
new  publications,  as  they  come  out,  if  they  have  any  kind  of 
merit.  The  edition  of  Scapula,  which  I  send,  though  not 
an  Elzivir,  is  equally  complete.  The  Elzivir  cannot  be 
bought  in  good  order  under  six  or  seven  guineas.  Walker's 
Pronouncing  Dictionary  is  of  last  year.  The  Lactantius, 
though  a  most  curious  and  standard  work,  the  Historical 
Society  will  be  glad  to  have,  if  you  are  not.  Newman's 
Spanish  Dictionary  I  know  nothing  about,  except  that  it  is 
the  last.  The  merit  of  Alberti  is  well  known. 

"  You  do  not  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  procure  many 
books  for  one  hundred  pounds.  I  have  run  the  Society  in 
debt  thirty  pounds,  which,  if  you  please,  you  will  provide 
for  in  your  next  draft. 

"You  will  find  that  I  have  ventured  to  add  to  your  list 


LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  409 

of  periodical  works.  Whether  some  ought  to  be  struck 
off  or  not  you  will  judge.  There  are  a  great  many  books, 
too,  which  you  ought  to  have  among  the  first,  which  I  have 
not  purchased  here,  because  they  can  be  procured  so  much 
cheaper  on  the  Continent.  Among  them  I  must  mention 
Facciolatus  and  Gesner ;  Stephens's  Greek  Thesaurus,  with 
Scott's  Appendix  ;  a  complete  set  of  classics  and  of  classical 
helps,  such  as  the  immense  collections  of  Groevius  and 
Gronovius  ;  complete  sets  of  the  Acta  Eruditorum,  Jour 
nal  des  S£avans,  Bibliotheque  Raisonnee,  the  Bible  of  Le 
Clerc,  the  Memoirs  of  the  Berlin  and  St.  Petersburg  Acad 
emies,  Commentaries  of  the  Society  of  Leipsic,  Abridg 
ment  of  the  Philosophical  Transactions,  etc. 

"  I  would  suggest  the  practicability  of  procuring  the  com 
plete  set  of  the  Monthly  Review,  which  belonged  to  my 
good  friend  Deacon  Storer ;  also  the  Annual  Register.  I 
hope  you  have  the  list  I  have  sent  you  for  Paris,  and  that 
you  will  transmit  it  as  soon  as  possible.  I  repeat  again, 
I  should  not  have  sent  out  exactly  such  a  list,  had  I  not 
known  that  future  orders  for  London,  Amsterdam,  Paris, 
and  I  hope,  too,  Hamburg  and  Leghorn,  would  probably 
supply  many  apparent  deficiencies. 

"  I  am  in  great  doubt  about  the  propriety  of  applying 
to  any  societies  here  for  an  exchange  of  publications  ;  for 
alas !  what  have  we  to  exchange  ?  The  Bath,  Manchester, 
Dublin,  etc.,  Society  papers  are  extremely  valuable;  but 
I  think  our  funds  are  not  yet  sufficient  to  procure  them. 
We  must,  at  least  for  some  time,  think  of  popularity,  and 
I  know  of  no  method  so  likely  to  procure  it,  as  to  keep 
our  rooms  furnished  with  abundance  of  magazines,  pam 
phlets,  and  new  books.  This,  I  am  satisfied,  should  be 
our  first  object ;  and  our  second,  to  lay  slowly  and  diligently 
the  foundation  of  a  permanent  library  of  works  difficult  to 
be  procured  in  America.  £  100  a  year,  judiciously  expend 
ed  for  this  last  object,  would  do  much.  If  I  should  ever 
35 


410  LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

return,  which  God  grant  may  be  this  summer,  I  think  I 
shall  be  able  to  open  a  correspondence  with  Paris,  which 
will  supply  us  with  books  now  unknown  in  America. 

"  The  books  are  shipped  on  board  the  Amelia,  because 
Mr.  Welles  takes  them  for  nothing,  and  because  they  could 
not  be  got  ready  for  the  Galen.  Mr.  Williams  has  got 
them  insured. 

"  Your  affectionate 

"J.  S.  B." 

"  London,  June  6th,  1807. 

"  MY  DEAR  SHAW,  —  I  had  determined  not  to  write  you 
another  letter  from  England ;  but  I  have  just  seen,  in  a  Bos 
ton  paper,  that  the  Amelia  has  arrived  with  the  precious 
deposit  for  the  reading-room,  and  I  cannot  fail  to  offer  you 
my  congratulations.  I  suggested  to  you  the  propriety  of 
ordering,  among  your  new  books  for  the  Athenceum,  Ros- 
coe's  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  and  Leo  the  Tenth  ;  Duppa's  Life 
of  Michel  Angelo ;  Shepherd's  Poggio ;  and  one  other 
of  the  same  period,  which  I  do  not  now  recollect,  uniformly 
bound.  I  wish  it  were  in  your  power  to  order  some  of  the 
superb  topographical  works  upon  Greece  and  Rome,  such 
as  Stuart's  Antiquities  of  Athens,  Gell's  Topography  of 
Troy,  Lumisden,  Caylus,  etc.,  to  say  nothing  of  Groevius 
and  Gronovius. 

"  Among  the  valuable  works  of  the  last  year,  I  cannot 
omit  to  mention  Stuart's  Translation  of  Sallust,  2  vols.  8vo., 
extremely  interesting  to  a  lover  of  Roman  Literature  ;  Lord 
Holland's  Life  of  Lope  de  Vega ;  Duten's  Memoirs ;  Clark- 
son's  Portraiture  of  Quakerism;  and  many  others,  which  I 
desired  to  send  out,  if  your  request  not  to  run  you  in  debt 
had  not  deterred  me. 

"  I  cannot  forbear,  too,  offering  you  my  advice  about 
your  proposed  edifice.  Do  not  build  any,  unless  you  can 
raise  money  enough  to  erect  an  elegant  classical  building, 


CORRESPONDENCE  OF  SHAW  AND  BUCKMINSTER.     411 

either  entirely  of  stone,  or  with  a  stone  facade,  which  shall 
reflect  everlasting  credit  upon  the  taste  and  munificence 
of  the  founders.  If  you  cannot  do  this,  any  common  house 
will  answer  your  purpose.  The  more  rooms  the  better,  if 
securely  warmed  in  winter.  At  any  rate,  before  you  build, 
I  hope  you  will  obtain,  from  England  and  the  Continent, 
drawings,  and  plans,  and  views  of  structures  of  the  kind 
proposed.  Loammi  Baldwin,  who,  I  understand,  has  just 
arrived,  would  send  you  from  Paris,  if  not  from  London, 
plans  worthy  of  your  attention.  I  shall  venture  to  speak 
to  him  upon  the  subject." 

Certainly  Mr.  Shaw  placed  unbounded  confidence  in 
his  friend,  and  his  commissions  were  executed  with  as 
much  care  as  a 'residence  of  only  four  months  in  Lon 
don,  to  one  who  was  absent  on  account  of  precarious 
health,  could  well  afford.  A  part  of  this  time  also  was 
taken  up  in  an  excursion  to  Scotland  and  Wales.  It 
would  excite  a  smile,  if  it  did  not  almost  provoke  anger, 
to  find,  that,  in  addition  to  work  imposed  upon  him  that 
would  have  occupied  a  paid  agent  for  months,  Mr.  Shaw 
gravely  asks  him  u  to  write  a  series  of  letters  for  the 
Anthology,  upon  the  literature  of  England,  their  col 
leges,  their  schools,  their  literary  institutions  and  liter 
ary  men,  which  I  am  very  sure,"  he  says,  "would  be 
novel  and  interesting  and  useful  to  the  people  of  this 
country."  A  young  man,  with  a  few  months  to  devote 
to  the  recovery  of  his  health,  was,  beside  all  the  rest  of 
his  work,  to  write  a  book  like  La  Harpe's,  which  was 
the  employment  of  the  best  years  of  life  ! 

"Boston,  May  13th,  1807. 

"  I  do  most  sincerely  congratulate  you,  my  dear  Buck- 
minster,  on  the  flattering  prospect  you  have  of  the  restora- 


412  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

tion  of  your  health.  This  is  the  only  consideration  which 
in  any  degree  reconciles  me  to  your  longer  absence,  for  I 
do  wish  most  ardently  for  your  return.  Since  the  death 
of  our  dear  friend  Walter,  I  have  regretted  your  absence, 
and  wished  for  your  company,  more  than  ever.  O,  my 
dear  friend,  how  little  did  we  anticipate  this  most  grievous 
dispensation  of  God's  holy  providence  when  last  we  parted  ! 
A  thousand  little  incidents,  relative  to  his  sickness  and 
death,  forcibly  impress  themselves  upon  my  mind ;  and 
if  God  shall  be  pleased  to  permit  us  to  meet  again,  I  will 
detail  them  to  you  with  melancholy  pleasure.  I  need  not 
tell  you,  who  were  so  well  acquainted  with  us  both,  how 
much  I  loved  him,  nor  how  worthy  he  was  of  admiration 
and  esteem.  There  was  no  good  that  I  ever  enjoyed, 
there  was  no  pleasure  that  I  ever  anticipated,  with  which 
Walter  was  not  most  intimately  associated ;  but  my  dear 
friend  is  dead  !  I  ought  not  to  complain  ;  God's  will  be  done  ! 
How  many  delightful  hours  have  we  passed  together  in 
conversing  about  you,  my  good  friend,  —  in  recollecting 
the  pleasures  of  former  days  passed  in  social  converse,  —  in 
felicitating  you  on  the  advantages  we  flattered  ourselves 
you  would  enjoy  from  your  travels,  in  your  health  and  in 
intellectual  improvement, —  and  with  what  transport  did  we 
anticipate  your  return !  O,  my  God !  Of  such  pleasures 
departed,  never  to  return,  how  painful  the  remembrance ! 

"  From  the  pamphlets,  which  I  send  to  you  with  this,  of 
which  you  have  several  for  distribution  as  you  think  proper, 
you  will  see  that  the  Trustees  of  the  Anthology  reading- 
room  and  library  have  obtained  an  act  of  incorporation  by 
the  name  of  the  Proprietors  of  the  Boston  Athenreum.  I 
doubt  very  much  whether  there  ever  has  been  an  institution 
in  this  country,  which  has  made  such  rapid  advances  as 
ours  ;  and  I  can  now  congratulate  you  on  the  prospect  of 
having  a  library  in  this  town,  which  you  always  seemed  to 
believe  was  only  a  delusion  of  my  idle  brain,  on  a  liberal 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  413 

plan,  highly  honorable  to  the  munificence  of  our  citizens, 
and  which  will  assist  and  facilitate  the  researches  of  the 
learned  and  gratify  the  ingenious  curiosity  of  strangers. 
This,  with  me,  I  can  assure  you,  is  no  ordinary  subject  for 
congratulation.  Depend  upon  it,  that  the  establishment  of 
the  Athenreum,  the  rooms  of  which  are  to  be  always  acces 
sible  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  is  one  of  the  greatest  strides 
towards  intellectual  advancement  that  this  country  has  ever 
witnessed.  We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  hun 
dred  and  fifty  shares  will  be  taken  up,  which,  at  three  hun 
dred  dollars  a  share,  will  give  us  forty-five  thousand  dollars. 
We  already  have  fifty  shares  subscribed  for,  and  there  are 
about  thirty  gentlemen  beside,  who  have  promised  to  sub 
scribe.  We  shall  not  trouble  ourselves  for  life-subscribers 
till  the  permanent  shares  are  taken  up,  which  I  undertake 
to  say  will  be  the  case  in  the  course  of  three  weeks  at  least, 
and  perhaps  in  a  less  time. 

"  You  did  very  right  to  send  us  out  the  Oxford  Review, 
though  I  do  not  think  much  of  the  numbers  I  have  read. 
As  our  funds  are  very  much  increased,  we  can  now  afford 
to  take  all  the  English  literary  magazines  of  any  eminence, 
and  you  are  at  liberty  to  add  any  to  the  list  you  please. 
What  merit  has  the  Panorama,  a  new  publication  I  see 
advertised  ?  We  are  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  arrange 
ments  made  in  London  with  Jenner,  for  the  periodical  pub 
lications.  They  come  out  as  regularly  as  we  could  ex 
pect  to  receive  them  from  London ;  but  we  wish  that  there 
might  be  some  arrangement  in  Liverpool,  so  that  no  vessel 
should  sail  for  Boston  without  some  papers  for  us.  Could 
you  not  make  some  agreement  with  the  AthenaBum,  Ly 
ceum,  or  Union  Society,  to  send  out  some  papers  different 
from  those  we  already  have  at  half-price  r  You  must  not 
send  us  out  any  books  on  credit.  Remember  me  with  all 
possible  affection  to  dear  Thacher.  In  great  haste,  dear 
Buckminster,  yours,  W.  S.  S." 

35* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CORRESPONDENCE   BETWEEN   DR.   BUCKMINSTER  AND   HIS 
DAUGHTER. REMARKS  UPON  THE  CORRESPONDENCE. 

DR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  marriage,  for  the  third  time, 
took  place,  after  a  widowhood  of  five  years,  in  the 
summer  of  1810.  His  wife  was  the  widow  of  Col. 
Eliphalet  Ladd,  who  had  been  one  of  his  best  and  most 
valuable  parishioners  ;  and  a  long  and  intimate  acquaint 
ance  had  guarantied  to  both  families  the  happiness  that 
would  be  secured  to  their  parents  from  a  nearer  union. 
Her  genuine  kindness,  the  devoted  and  patient  love, 
which  rendered  the  last  years  of  Dr.  Buckminster  free 
from  care,  and  soothed  the  irritation  of  a  mind  begin 
ning  to  feel  the  approach  of  declining  years  and  of 
mental  depression,  secured  to  her  the  most  affection 
ate  gratitude  of  his  children. 

The  father's  comfort  being  thus  happily  provided  for, 
his  daughters  were  no  longer  detained  by  filial  scruples 
from  the  pleasant  sojourn  of  their  brother's  house.  Dr. 
Buckminster's  anxiety  for  their  eternal  welfare  increased 
as  they  were  more  separated  from  him.  It  would  be 
unjust  to  his  memory  to  exclude  from  these  pages  the 
following  correspondence,  which  took  place  at  this  time. 
But  although  the  letters  appear  without  the  alteration 
of  a  single  word,  in  the  apprehension  of  the  writer, 
the  Calvinistic  formula  and  mode  of  expression,  which 


FATHER    AND    DAUGHTER.  415 

give  to  them  a  sectarian  aspect,  is  wholly  distinct  from 
the  spirit  that  breathes  through  them.  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster's  religion  was  of  the  heart,  not  of  the  head  ;  it  was 
neither  that  of  Calvin,  nor  of  the  Assembly's  Catechism  ; 
it  was  the  pure  spirit  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  that 
breathed  in  that  form  of  faith  which  bound  him  to  a  sys 
tem.  It  was  not  the  form  nor  the  name  which  fed  his 
spiritual  nature  and  kept  alive  the  "  life  of  God  in  his 
soul."  He  would  have  been  happier  could  he  have  held 
more  intimate  communion  with  his  children,  —  could  he 
have  recognized  in  his  son,  and  in  the  daughter  to  whom 
these  letters  are  addressed,  the  same  spirit  which  breathed 
in  his  own  soul,  —  could  he  have  seen  that  love,  joy, 
peace,  gentleness,  and  goodness  were  as  much  the  fruits 
of  the  spirit  of  grace  in  them  as  "  repentance,  faith  and 
holiness"  are  in' those  denominated  "Orthodox  Chris 
tians."  If  they  have  met  in  the  great  company  of  puri 
fied  spirits  assembled  from  among  those  who  have  worn 
the  livery  of  every  sect,  and  been  claimed  by  every  de 
nomination  beneath  the  sun,  the  only  bond  of  union  will 
be,  that  they  have  lived  the  divine  life,  the  life  of  God 
in  the  soul. 

After  the  marriage  of  her  father,  his  eldest  daughter 
made  her  brother's  house  her  permanent  home,  and  the 
other  sisters  were  occasionally  there.  Their  separation 
was  short,  but  they  never  met  on  earth  again  ;  and  the 
words  which  closed  the  correspondence,  —  "  O,  my 
child,  let  us  be  prepared  to  live  with  Christ  in  the  world 
to  come ! :  —  as  they  had  a  prophetic  meaning,  so  we 
may  trust  they  had  a  perfect  and  blissful  fulfilment. 

The  correspondence  begins  by  a  letter  from  his 
eldest  daughter  to  a  sister. 


416     DR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  CORRESPONDENCE 

"  Boston,  September,  1810. 

"  I  have  just  been  looking  at  the  moon  from  the  roof  of 
the  house  where  you,  my  dear  E.,  passed  many  hours  last 
summer,  but  never  one  where  nature  was  more  tranquilly 
sublime  than  now.  Everything  seems  to  say  that  we  are 
the  work  of  a  perfect  Being,  and  the  care  of  a  mild  and 
compassionate  Father ;  and  we  can  almost  believe  that  he  is 
looking  even  upon  us  with  approbation  and  love.  How 
great  are  our  obligations  to  this  God !  and  how  far  do  I  fall 
short  of  performing  the  duties  aright  that  these  obligations 
imply  !  Our  best  endeavours  to  serve  him  are  but  poor  re 
turns  for  the  mercies  he  bestows  upon  us ;  and  yet  I,  who 
have  received  blessings  without  number,  neglect  some  of 
his  most  plain  and  reasonable  commands !  When  I  sat 
down  to  my  desk,  I  did  not  think  of  falling  into  this  train 
of  thought;  but  why  may  I  not  write  to  you,  dear  E.,  upon 
a  subject,  which,  from  a  consciousness  of  my  deficiency  in 
knowledge,  I  dare  not  converse  upon,  although  it  often  em 
ploys  my  thought  ?  I  am  sure  you  believe,  with  me,  that  it 
is  a  duty  in  every  one  arrived  at  years  of  discretion,  and 
desirous  of  the  name  of  Christian,  to  profess  publicly  her 
belief  in  Christianity,  and  show  to  the  world  that  she  loves 
and  reveres  the  character  of  the  blessed  Saviour  by  par 
taking  of  the  holy  ordinance. 

"  I  am  far  from  believing  that  there  are  not  many  good 
persons,  who,  from  doubt  of  their  qualifications,  mistrust  of 
their  sincerity,  or  perhaps  from  a  habit  of  procrastination, 
live  and  die  without  becoming  members  of  the  Church  in 
this  world,  who  will  yet  enjoy  all  the  happiness  of  heaven  ; 
still,  I  think  it  is  a  duty  every  Christian  should  perform,  and 
that  the  neglect,  of  it  causes  a  severe  compunction  and  pain 
of  conscience.  I  have  been  wishing  to  talk  with  papa  on 
the  subject,  but  I  cannot  get  confidence,  arid  I  believe  that 
I  have  sometimes  refrained  through  fear,  that,  instead  of 
an  honor  I  should  be  a  reproach  to  the  cause  of  Christ ; 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  417 

for,  in  every  situation,  we  should  '  keep  a  conscience  void 
of  offence  to  God  and  man ' ;  and  those  who  publicly  pro 
fess  to  be  Christ's  disciples  do  more  injury  to  the  cause  of 
Christianity  by  small  errors  than  mere  men  of  the  world 
do  by  great  sins.  Are  we  not  promised  the  assistance  of 
God's  spirit  to  help  us  in  all  our  sincere  endeavours  to  serve 
him  ?  and,  if  we  firmly  believe  this,  are  we  not  wrong  in 
neglecting  any  means  which  will  enable  us  to  become  more 
worthy  disciples  of  Jesus,  and  more  perfect  in  our  lives  ? 

"  The  precepts  of  the  Gospel  do  not  prohibit  rational 
and  moderate'  pleasures  ;  indeed,  the  purest  pleasures  are 
there  recommended  and  enforced ;  our  endeavour  should 
be  to  form  the  mind,  and  keep  it  in  a  state  for  their  en 
joyment.  There  we  are  taught  that  such  a  disposition  is 
necessary  ;  that,  while  we  live  in  the  world,  we  should  be 
able  to  live  above  it.  We  must  often  associate  in  the  world 
with  those  whose  chief  happiness  is  in  the  show  and  pageant 
ry  of  the  world  ;  but  it  does  not  follow,  because  we  are 
charitable  to  such,  '  that  we  are  lovers  of  pleasure  more 
than  lovers  of  God.'  The  difference  of  opinion  that  pre 
vails  upon  the  most  momentous  subjects,  at  the  present  time, 
makes  one  almost  afraid  to  adopt  any  belief;  for  what  we 
will  assert  is  truth,  another  will  reason  into  falsehood.  I 
cannot  but  believe,  that,  if  any  particular  faith  had  been  re 
quired  for  the  attainment  of  heaven,  it  would  have  been 
distinctly  revealed  to  us ;  and  when  we  see  so  many  good 
men  differing  in  faith  and  sentiment,  who  are  making  equal 
exertions  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  improvement  of 
man,  we  cannot  but  believe  that  they  will  partake  of  equal 
joys  in  another  world.  - 

"  Most  affectionately,  your 

"L.  M.  B." 

After  reading  this  letter,  the  father  wrote  in  reply  :  — 


418      DR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  CORRESPONDENCE 

"  October  29th,  1810. 

"  MY  DEAR  DAUGHTER,  —  Religion,  my  dear  child,  real 
religion,  is  the  principal  thing,  the  thing  of  first  importance, 
the  one  thing  needful,  to  all  ages  and  characters.  It  does 
not  consist  in  a  speculative  belief  of  a  certain  set  of  princi 
ples,  even  though  they  be  true  ;  nor  in  the  external  perform 
ance  of  a  round  of  duties,  though  they  be  the  duties  which 
reason  and  revelation  impose  upon  us ;  but  it  consists  in  a 
reconciliation  of  the  heart  to  God,  in  an  approbation  of  his 
character,  his  government,  his  truths,  his  precepts,  his  in 
stitutions,  and  a  conformity  to  them,— performing  the  ser 
vices  which  they  impose  from  a  principle  of  love  and  re 
spect  to  his  authority  and  pleasure.  It  (i.  e.  religion)  gives 
God,  as  manifested  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  preference  to  all  other 
objects,  and  rebinds  the  soul  to  him,  as  its  supreme  good. 
Now  this  is  not  the  natural  state  of  man,  —  of  any  man  de 
scended  from  apostate  Adam.  We  are  alienated  and  es 
tranged  from  God  through  the  ignorance  that  is  in  us,  by 
reason  of  the  blindness  of  our  hearts;  we  are  naturally 
averse  from  the  true  character  of  God  as  a  holy  and  sove 
reign  God.  We  may  love  his  blessings,  but  we  love  not 
him.  We  love  pleasure  more  than  God,  and  the  creature 
more  than  the  Creator.  We  love  human  excellence  more 
than  the  Divine,  —  talk  more  about  it,  dwell  more  upon  it, 
although  the  former  is  to  the  latter  but  as  the  drop  of  the 
bucket  to  the  waves  of  the  ocean.  Universal  experience 
and  Scriptural  declaration  confirm  this  truth  ;  hence  the  ne 
cessity  of  our  being  born  again,  —  of  our  being  renewed  in 
the  spirit  of  our  minds,  —  created  anew.  This  is  not  some 
trifling  alteration  in  our  sentiments,  views,  feelings,  and 
practices,  but  it  is  a  radical,  and  essential,  and  abiding 
change,  in  which  old  things  pass  away  and  all  things  be 
come  new  ;  in  which  God  is  welcomed  to  his  throne  in  the 
heart,  and  everything  is  brought  into  obedience  to  his  pleas- 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  419 

lire.  This  is  religion,  and  to  effect  this  is  the  design  of  the 
mighty  apparatus  of  the  Gospel.  Till  this  is  effected,  we 
have  no  part  or  lot  in  religion,  —  no  title  to  its  blessings. 
This  is  the  religion  I  want  for  my  children.  But  I  fear, 
through  the  pride  of  science  and  philosophy,  and  the  fashion 
able  liberality  of  the  present  day,  my  children  are  placing 
the  most  formidable  barriers  against  their  ever  possessing  it. 

"  This  change,  that  I  have  spoken  of,  is  effected  by  re 
ceiving  Christ  and  believing  in  him,  with  a  cordial,  but  hum 
bling  and  self-denying  faith.  In  proportion  as  we  cherish 
inadequate  ideas  of  our  helpless,  guilty,  and  incurable  state 
by  nature,  nattering  ideas  of  there  being  some  remains  of 
good  in  us,  surviving  the  apostacy,  upon  which,  by  our  own 
exertions,  we  may  raise  ourselves  to  a  moral  and  spiritual 
change,  we  shall  be  indifferent  to  the  Saviour,  we  shall  have 
low  thoughts  of  his  character  and  of  his  undertaking,  and 
compass  ourselves  about  with  sparks  of  our  own  kindling, 
till  we  receive  this  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  that  we  lie  down 
in  sorrow.  I  wish  that  I  had  not  so  much  reason  to  fear  that 
none  of  my  children  are  partakers  of  this  grace.  I  have 
reason  to  bless  God  that  you  are  amiable,  that  you  are  im 
proved,  that  you  are  affectionate  to  each  other  and  dutiful  to 
me  ;  but,  O  that  I  could  hope  that  you  were  gracious,  that 
you  loved  Christ  in  his  true  character,  more  than  father  or 
brother,  more  than  characters  distinguished  for  science  and 
philosophy,  for  politeness  and  refinement,  in  a  vain  world, 
whose  pageantry  will  soon  vanish  as  a  dream  ! 

"  I  have  been  favored  and  pleased  with  reading  the  let 
ters  you  wrote  to  E.,  with  the  scenery  and  descriptions 
of  society  in  England,  and  the  interest  you  take  in  it.  Are 
you  as  much  interested,  my  dear  daughter,  in  the  scenes 
that  were  exhibited  in  Judea,  in  Mount  Calvary,  and  the' 
garden  of  Gethsemane  ?  Do  they  at  any  time  cause  such 
emotions  to  thrill  in  your  breast  ?  Are  you  as  sensibly  in 
terested  in  the  characters  there  ?  How  natural,  in  writing  to 


420 

a  beloved  sister,  bound  with  you  to  eternity,  and  whose  only 
hope  must  be  with  yours  in  this  Saviour,  how  natural  would 
it  have  been  to  have  adverted  to  it !  You  love  Miss  L.  for 
her  admiration  of  Miss  S.  Do  you  love  those  who  admire 
Christ  in  his  true  character,  and  because  they  admire  him  ? 
O,  my  child,  may  God  enable  you  to  do  so,  and  to  love  all 
those  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity.  You  are  antici 
pating  with  pleasure  a  portrait  of ,  and  a  bust  of . 

Have  you  any  such  desires  to  see  Jesus,  or  to  gaze  upon  the 
tokens  of  his  love,  the  symbols  of  his  body  and  blood  ?  A 
fear  that  you  had  not,  my  dearest  daughter,  —  a  fear  that 
you  were  a  stranger  to  the  power  of  Divine  grace,  —  was  the 
reason  I  did  not  encourage  your  making  a  profession  of  re 
ligion  when  you  spoke  to  me  on  the  subject ;  but  perhaps  I 
judged  wrong.  I  beseech  you  not,  my  dear  child,  to  rest 
in  professions,  —  in  saying  Lord,  Lord  !  —  but  be  sure 
that  Christ  is  your  Lord,  and  that  you  are  crucified  to  the 
world  and  the  world  to  you.  Rest  in  nothing  short  of  re 
generation,  for  unless  you  are  born  again,  you  cannot  see 
the  kingdom  of  God." 

"November  23d,  1810. 

"Mr  DEAR  DAUGHTER, — The  reading  of  your  letter 
brought  to  my  mind  the  breathing  of  the  Apostle,  in  the 
fourth  chapter  of  Galatians,  nineteenth  and  twentieth  verses. 
However  uncharitable  it  may  appear  to  you,  I  must  say,  I 
stand  in  doubt  of  my  children,  and  have  fears,  that,  lest,  as 
the  serpent  beguiled  Eve  through  his  subtlety,  so  their 
minds  should  be  corrupted  from  the  simplicity  that  is  in 
Christ.  The  breathing  of  the  Apostle,  in  the  passage  re 
ferred  to  above,  implies  in  the  strongest  terms,  that,  nat 
urally,  there  is  nothing  of  Christ  in  us  ;  nothing  until  it  is 
formed  within  us.  This  is  supported  by  express  Scripture 
testimony.  Every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  man's 
heart  is  evil,  only  evil,  and  that  continually,  from  his  youth. 
1  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  421 

wicked.'  '  You  hath  he  quickened,'  saith  the  Apostle  to 
the  Ephesians,  '  who  were  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  ' ;  and, 
lest  he  should  be  thought  to  confine  this  description  to  ihe 
heathen,  he  speaks  of  the  privileged  Jews  as  in  the  same 
state  hefore  their  conversion,  '  among  whom  we  all  had 
our  conversation  in  times  past,  in  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  ful 
filling  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  mind,  and  were 
by  nature  children  of  wrath,  even  as  others.'  The  deny 
ing,  doubting,  disbelieving  this  truth,  leads  to  a  train  of 
errors  in  theology.  Nay,  unless  the  heart  be  better  than 
the  head,  having  been  the  subject  of  exercises  which  the  head' 
denies,  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be  a  temple  for  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  dwell  in.  The  corrupting  of  this  doctrine,  or  be 
lieving  that  the  apostacy  of  man  has  only  given  a  shock 
to  his  moral  and  spiritual  state,  while  it  has  left  some  prin 
ciple,  some  stamina,  by  which  he  may  raise  himself  up  to 
the  favor  of  God,  and,  without  the  foundation  of  a  belief  in 
total  depravity,  become  a  holy  temple  to  the  Lord,  recon 
ciles  us  to  low  ideas  of  Christ  and  his  work,  and  preserves 
the  pride  and  self-complacency  which  must,  be  brought 
down  before  we  can  become  partakers  of  the  blessings  of 
the  Gospel. 

"  A  want  of  conviction  of  this  natural  state  of  man,  which 
constitutes  the  necessity  of  the  wonderful  plan  of  the  Gos 
pel,  is  the  reason  why  persons  do  not  know  what  regenera 
tion  means,  and  why  preachers  preach  so  indistinctly  upon 
it.  Regeneration  is  the  change  in  the  natural  state  of  man, 
the  radical  alteration  of  this  character,  the  slaying  of  the 
enmity  of  the  heart,  (for  'the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  to 
God,')  the  bowing  and  renewing  of  the  will.  This  change 
does  not  produce  any  new  powers  in  the  heart,  but  it 
changes  the  direction  of  the  powers,  the  will,  and  the  affec 
tions.  It  is  the  beginning  of  a  new  life,  with  new  principles, 
new  views,  and  new  objects  of  delight  and  aversion.  With 
out  this  change  no  one  can  see  the  kingdom  of  God.  Make 
36 


422 

the  tree  good,  and  the  fruit  will  be  good ;  but  as  long  as  the 
tree  is  corrupt  the  fruit  will  be  corrupt.  They  who  are  in 
the  flesh  cannot  please  God.  This  cannot  mean  in  the 
body,  because  of  many  such  it  has  been  known  that  they 
pleased  God.  Neither  can  it  mean  those  who  live  in  great 
sensuality,  because  emulation,  wrath,  strife  are  fruits  of  the 
flesh,  as  much  as  intemperance  or  sensuality.  It  means 
those  who  are  in  the  state  of  their  natural  birth,  as  born  of 
the  flesh.  Man  cannot  raise  himself  up,  or  produce  the 
new  birth.  He  may  do  much,  if  he  will  not  resist  and  op 
pose  the  plain  truths  of  God,  toward  making  himself  sensible 
of  his  need  of  this  birth ;  but,  in  order  to  its  being  effected, 
he  must  bow  and  yield  himself,  as  a  poor,  helpless,  guilty, 
and  justly  condemned  sinner,  to  sovereign  grace.  He 
must  receive  Christ  as  he  is  offered  to  him  in  the  Gospel. 
Christ  is  the  plank  thrown  out  to  sinners  in  their  shipwreck, 
and  they  must  grasp  it  by  faith,  and  rest  upon  him,  or  they 
perish.  To  them  who  receive  him,  to  them  power  is  given 
to  become  the  sons  of  God,  even  to  them  who  believe  in 
his  name,  who  are  born  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the 
flesh,  nor  of -the  will  of  man,  but  of  God.  We  must  submit 
to  this  righteousness  of  Christ.  If  we  do  not,  however  much 
zeal  we  may  use  to  establish  our  own  righteousness,  we 
shall  never  attain  to  the  law  of  holiness,  and  shall  only 
compass  ourselves  about  with  sparks  of  our  own  kindling. 
The  prophet  Isaiah  has  said,  such  shall  receive  this  at  the 
hand  of  God,  '  that  they  shall  lie  down  in  sorrow.' 

"  '  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,'  the  Apostle  says,  '  he  is  a  new 
creature ;  to  be  carnally  minded  is  death,  but  to  be  spirit 
ually  minded  is  life  and  peace.'  Christians  are  God's  work 
manship,  created  in  Christ  Jesus  to  good  works,  which  God 
hath  before  ordained,  .that  we  should  walk  in  them.  Till 
we  are  created  in  Christ  Jesus,  then,  till  we  repent  and  be 
lieve  in  him,  till  we  are  regenerated,  we  cannot  produce 
those  good  works,  which  God  has  before  ordained,  wherein 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  423 

Christians  should  walk.  If  you  are  at  a  loss  upon  the  na 
ture  of  regeneration,  read  Dr.  Doddridge's  sermons  on  that 
subject. 

"  You  say,  my  dear  child,  that  you  have  no  idea  of  ar 
riving  in  this  world  to  any  particular  stage  of  goodness,  but 
that  all  must  be  progress.  If  you  mean  a  state  of  perfec 
tion,  which  your  following  remarks  indicate,  no  one  that  is 
taught  of  God  has  any  such  idea.  But  we  must  commence 
a  state  of  goodness ;  we  must  change  our  master.  The  evil 
one  must  be  cast  out  of  us,  and  Christ  must  take  possession 
of  our  hearts.  We  must  not  only  have  our  hearts  swept, 
but  washed ;  c  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord.' 
We  shall  not  then  think  we  have  no  more  to  do,  but  we 
shall  think  we  can  never  do  enough  for  him  that  hath  loved 
us  and  washed  us  in  his  blood.  We  shall  then  work  from 
life  and  love,  and  not  for  them.  If  we  should  attain  that 
assurance  which  we  are  commanded  to  use  all  diligence  to 
attain,  so  as  not  to  be  banished  from  God,  we  shall  have  an 
increased  concern  not  to  do  anything  to  grieve  and  offend 
him,  and  we  shall  have  more  ardent  wishes  to  abound  in  the 
fruits  of  righteousness,  which  are  by  Jesus  Christ,  to  the 
praise  and  glory  of  God. 

"  You  say,  my  dear  child,  that  you  know  that  you  are 
unworthy  to  come  to  the  communion  ;  you  would  use  it  as  a 
means  ;  and  you  ask  if  deferring  it  will  make  your  sins  less. 
If  you  have  come  to  Christ,  this  is  all  the  worthiness  that 
any  will  ever  have,  —  their  sole  title  to  this  ordinance. 
You  are  unworthy  to  come  to  Christ,  but  his  invitation  and 
command  removes  the  obstacle,  and  gives  you  a  fair  title 
to  come  ;  and,  however  unworthy  you  are,  if  you  do  come, 
you  shall  be  welcome,  and  all  things  shall  work  together  for 
your  good.  Un worthiness  never  was  an  obstacle  ;  it  is  only 
unwillingness  to  corne  to  the  terms  of  the  Gospel  that 
ruins  us. 

"  Nothing  on  earth  could  give  me  higher  happiness  than 


424  DR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  CORRESPONDENCE 

to  have  ground  to  believe  that  Christ  was  formed  in  the 
hearts  of  my  children,  —  that  they  had  truly  given  themselves 
to  the  Lord ;  then  it  would  be  a  joy  to  me  to  have  them 
enroll  their  names  in  the  church  committed  to  their  Father's 
care.  But  it  matters  little  in  what  Christian  records  our 
names  are  written,  if  they  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book 
of  life.  Some  churches  have  departed  from  the  funda 
mental  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  but  their  corruptions  will 
not  destroy  the  comfort  and  usefulness  of  the  ordinances, 
to  those  who  with  penitent  and  believing  hearts  partake  of 
them. 

"  If  your  are  satisfied,  my  child,  respecting  your  right 
to  the  ordinance,  that  you  do  indeed  receive  its  Divine 
author  as  your  Lord,  that  you  can  take  up  your  cross  and 
follow  him  in  sincere  and  faithful  allegiance,  you  had  better 
not  delay  any  longer  to  join  your  brother's  church ;  but  let 
a  father  entreat  you  not  to  rest  in  a  name  to  live,  while  you 
are  dead  ;  not  in  a  form  of  godliness  without  its  power;  — 
that  power  that  shall  bring  every  thought  into  captivity  to  the 
obedience  of  faith.  Do  not  content  yourself  with  that  phi 
losophic,  speculative  religion,  which  may  give  God  much 
in  profession  and  in  ritual  observances,  but  reserves  the 
heart  for  the  world,  its  fashions,  and  its  customs. 

"  I  should  have  been  too  happy  in  this  world  had  God 
led  my  children  to  see  Divine  truth  as  I  think  it  ought  to 
be  discerned,  and  to  hold  fast  what  I  conceive  to  be  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  But  he  has  suffered  them,  in  my 
view,  through  the  pride  of  science  and  the  fascinations  of 
philosophy,  to  be  perverted  from  the  truth,  and  to  hold 
dangerous  errors ;  whether  he  will  ever  rescue  them  I  know 
not :  some  have  been  recovered  from  these  snares,  there 
fore  I  have  hope.  I  must  leave  them  with  God.  I  have 
said  everything  to  my  dear  son  that  is  profitable  to  be 
said.  Nothing  will  convince  him,  and  turn  him  from  his 
errors,  but  that  still  small  voice  which  followed  the  earth- 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  425 

quake  and  the  fire  in  the  vision  of  Elijah  and  made  the 
prophet  wrap  his  face  in  his  mantle.  O  that  it  would  please 
God  to  grant  you  and  him,  and  all  my  children,  this  efficient 
voice,  that  you  might  understand  me,  and  I  should  no  longer 
be  to  you  such  as  you  would  not.  But  I  must  give  myself 
to  prayer. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  poor  W.  He  was  a  faithful  servant  in 
my  family  many  years  ago.  Give  my  love  to  him,  and 
present  him  the  inclosed." 

"December,  1811. 

"  MY  DEAR  CHILD,  —  Since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  in  Boston,  or  of  hearing  anything  directly  from  you, 
you  have  voluntarily  associated  yourself  with  the  family 
and  Church  of  Christ,  and  given  yourself  to  htm  as  your 
head  and  husband ;  for  the  Church  is  his  bride,  purchased 
at  an  inestimable  price,  even  the  price  of  his  precious  blood. 
I  hope  you  have  felt  yourself  altogether  unworthy  of  this 
honor,  unworthy  even  to  be  placed  among  his  servants,  and 
that  you  have  ventured  upon  this  solemn  transaction,  be 
cause  he  has  called  you,  and  constrained  you  to  love  him, 
and  to  prefer  him  to  every  other,  even  your  chiefest  joy. 
O,  my  daughter,  if  God  has  wrought  you  to  this  self-same 
thing,  if  he  has  formed  you  to  this  temper  and  affection, 
how  happy  are  you  !  How  happy  arn  I,  to  have  one  of  my 
own  children,  the  children  of  my  dearest  love,  adopted  into 
the  family  of  Christ,  into  whose  heart  the  spirit  of  adoption 
is  poured  so  that  you  can  with  filial  confidence  cry  Abba, 
Father ! 

"  But  you  will  permit  the  anxiety  of  a  father  to  suggest 
to  you  that  we  must  not  rest  upon  any  external  observances, 
nor  formal  covenan tings,  however  solemnly  performed,  as 
certain  evidence  of  our  gracious  state,  or  of  our  title  through 
grace  to  the  Divine  favor.  There  is  no  dispute  with  any 
who  claim  the  title  of  Christians,  that,  '  as  God  is  a  spirit, 
they  who  worship  him  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in 
36* 


426  DR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  CORRESPONDENCE 

truth.'  This  claim,  which  we  may  not  disdain  nor  dispute, 
is,  '  My  son,  give  me  thy  heart.'  Let  us  give  him  what  we 
may,  if  this  be  withheld,  if  his  authority  and  pleasure  be 
disputed,  and  other  objects  rival  him  in  .our  love,  we  cannot 
belong  to  him  nor  he  to  us. 

"  It  is  our  duty  to  profess  religion.  '  With  the  heart  man 
believeth  unto  righteousness,  and  with  the  mouth  confession 
is  made  unto  salvation,'  but  there  is  danger  of  resting  in  the 
confession,  without  a  due  concern  that  the  faith  that  influ 
ences  it  is  seated  in  the  heart,  and  commands  and  governs 
it.  The  Apostle  Peter  exhorts  those  whom  he  addresses 
as  brethren,  and  who,  therefore,  must  be  considered  as  being 
of  the  visible  family  of  Christ,  to  give  diligence  to  make 
their  calling  and  election  sure,  which  must  mean  that  call 
ing  which  does  insure  eternal  life,  for  he  says,  '  so  an  en 
trance  shall  be  administered  to  you  abundantly  into  the  ever 
lasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  who 
is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever.'  Let  a  father 
entreat  you,  my  dear  child,  to  use  diligence  to  add  to  your 
faith,  virtue,  that  is,  a  holy,  heavenly  zeal  and  courage  ;  and 
to  virtue,  knowledge  ;  and  to  make  your  calling  and  election 
sure.  If  you  ask  me  what  this  calling  is,  I  know  not  that 
I  can  answer  you  better  than  in  the  words  of  that  formula 
of  religious  truth  and  duty,  which  I  regret  I  did  not  more 
carefully  and  diligently  teach  my  children  when  they  were 
young,  and  which  I  wish  they  would  impartially  study  and 
compare  with  the  word  of  God,  now  they  are  older. 
'  Effectual  calling  is  a  work  of  God's  spirit,  whereby  con 
vincing  us  of  our  sin  and  misery,  and  enlightening  our 
minds  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  renewing  our  wills, 
he  doth  persuade  and  enable  us  to  embrace  Jesus  Christ, 
freely  offered  to  us  in  the  Gospel.'  No  one,  I  think,  can 
object  to  this  description  of  the  calling  of  God  that  is  unto 
salvation,  who  is  not  willing  to  be  satisfied  with  a  body 
without  a  soul,  or  with  a  shadow  without  the  substance. 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  427 

Religion  is  the  informing  spirit  of  the  heart,  and  shows  its 
fruits  in  the  life  and  conversation.  It  is  our  victory,  over 
coming  the  world  and  all  that  is  in  the  world,  as  the  lusts 
of  the  flesh,  the  lusts  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,  all 
which  are  not  of  religion,  but  of  the  world.  There  are 
indeed  babes,  young  men,  and  fathers,  in  Christ ;  but  the 
babe  has  a  principle  of  respect  to  Christ,  though  it  may  not 
be  as  strong  and  vigorous  as  in  those  who  have  the  other 
titles.  '  The  water  that  I  shall  give  you,'  saith  he  from 
whom  all  our  good  gifts  must  come,  '  shall  be  in  you  a  well 
of  water  springing  up  to  everlasting  life.'  I  hope  that 
Christ  rules  in  your  heart  and  affections,  and  that,  although 
you  do  not  separate  yourself  from  the  world  and  the  men 
of  the  world,  yet  that  they  are  not  the  inmates  of  your 
heart,  and  your  chosen  companions,  but  that  your  delight 
is  in  the  saints,  the  excellent  of  the  earth,  and  that  you 
love  to  retire  from  the  cares  and  pleasures  of  the  world  to 
your  Bible  and  your  closet,  that  you  may  converse  with 
Christ. 

"Although  your  father  is  a  guilty  and  miserable  sinner, 
who  trusts  that  none  of  his  children  has  so  much  offended 
God  as  he  has  done,  yet  he  has  hope  that  through  grace  he 
is  a  penitent  sinner,  and  has  found  mercy  with  God ;  and 
although  he  loathes  himself  for  his  iniquities,  yet  he  knows 
from  the  Scripture  that  the  least  sinner  must  repent,  if  he 
would  escape  perdition.  There  may  be  different  degrees 
or  intensity  of  repentance,  but  it  is  of  one  nature.  Your 
father  is  the  channel  by  which  you,  my  children,  have  de 
rived  corruption  and  depravity,  and  you  are  by  nature  chil 
dren  of  wrath ;  would  your  father  not  be  a  monster,  if  he 
did  not  strive  with  you  till  Christ  be  formed  within  you  ? 
That  he  stands  in  doubt  of  you,  he  cannot  disguise,  and  that 
he  has  more  anxiety  on  this  subject  than  upon  any  other,  he 
cannot  conceal.  I  ascribe  righteousness  to  my  Maker ;  he 
is  holy  in  all  that  with  which  he  sees  fit  to  exercise  me  ; 


428  DR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  CORRESPONDENCE 

but  I  often  ask,  whether  he  is  not  punishing  the  vanity  and 
ambition  of  your  father  in  wishing  his  children  to  be  distin 
guished  by  intellectual  attainments,  by  permitting  them  to 
embrace  a  philosophic  religion,  and  hiding  from  them  the  true 
Gospel,  and  is  thus  granting  my  request  by  sending  leanness 
into  their  souls.  If  this  be  so,  Father  in  heaven  forgive 
me  and  them  ;  and  when  we  are  corrected  according  to  thy 
good  pleasure,  bring  my  children  into  the  true  way  to  adore 
Emanuel  and  enthrone  him  in  their  hearts  ! 

"  You  live,  my  dear  daughter,  in  the  atmosphere  of  lib 
erality  of  principle  ;  your  friends  and  visitors  are  Arians  or 
Socinians,  who  are  disposed  to  object  to  our  common  trans 
lation  of  the  Scriptures,  and  thus  impair  their  authority  and 
influence  upon  the  minds  and  hearts  of  those  who  can 
read  no  other.  We  may  as  well  be  without  the  Scriptures 
as  not  to  have  confidence  in  them,  that  they  are  a  safe  rule 
of  faith  and  practice  ;  or  to  imagine  that  the  things  that  are 
necessary  to  our  salvation  depend  upon  verbal  criticism,  or 
the  wrangling  of  scholars  who  are  striving  for  literary  fame. 
I  was  astonished  lately  at  the  remark  of  a  person  on  this 
subject,  that  '  she  could  not  use  the  Scriptures  to  judge  of 
doctrines,  unless  she  could  read  them  in  the  original '  ;  which 
is  to  render  the  Scriptures  useless  to  far  the  greater  portion 
of  mankind.  I  hope  the  Socinian  and  Arian  heresies  are 
not  inconsistent  with  the  salvation  of  those  who  are  staggered 
with  them,  but  I  cannot  but  tremble  when  I  read  the  words  of 
the  Apostle  Peter,  2d  Epistle,  ii.  4,  — '  There  shall  be  false 
teachers  among  you,  who  privily  shall  bring  in  damnable  her 
esies,  even  denying  the  Lord  Jesus  that  bought  them,  bring 
ing  upon  themselves  swift  destruction.'  If  those  who  are 
affected  with  these  sentiments  are  subjects  of  spiritual  regen 
eration,  and  do  love  God  with  a  supreme  love,  and  hate  sin 
in  its  nature  as  well  as  in  its  consequences,  they  will  be  with 
God  for  ever  ;  they  will  never  perish.  But  these  errors  are 
generally  connected  with  such  views  of  regeneration,  re- 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  429 

pcntance,  faith,  etc.,  as  do  not  issue  in  such  a  state  of  mind 
and  heart ;  and  they  so  diminish  the  evil  of  sin,  and  the  im 
mense  sacrifice  that  it  demanded,  that  I  fear  they  will  never 
produce  this  effect. 

"  You  yourself  must  have  observed  that  these  sentiments 
abate  the  zeal ;  they  cool  the  ardor  and  solicitude  of  those 
that  hold  them,  compared  with  those  who  hold  contrary  sen 
timents  ;  they  make  them  more  satisfied  with  the  form  of 
godliness,  where  there  is  little  evidence  of  the  power  of  it ; 
they  are  rarely  interested  in  subjects  that  address  the  heart  or 
relate  to  the  safety  of  the  soul,  and  that  grace  of  God  by 
which  its  safety  is  insured  ;  the  objects  of  their  pursuit 
and  ambition  are  in  some  sense  or  other  worldly  objects. 
This  affords  a  strong  suspicion  that  they  err  from  the  faith  ; 
for  truth  sanctifies  the  soul,  and  they  who  are  risen  with 
Christ  set  their  affections  upon  things  above. 

"  Whether  these  errors  be  consistent  with  a  state  of  grace 
or  with  the  safety  of  the  soul,  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  know, 
that  God  can  recover  those  that  have  fallen  into  them,  for  he 
has  given  such  instances  of  his  sovereign  and  triumphant 
grace.  This  is  the  hope,  that,  like  a  distant  gleam  of  light, 
streaks  the  dark  hemisphere  that  God  has  spread  over  me. 
That  he  will  some  time  recover  your  brother  from  the  snare 
in  which  he  is  entangled,  and  bring  him  to  devote  those  pow 
ers  and  acquirements  which  have  been  given  him,  to  display 
the  glory  of  Christ  as  God,  and  the  Saviour,  and  to  build 
again  what  he  has  aided  to  destroy,  is  the  prayer  of  my  soul. 
Whether  this  be  ever  the  case  or  not,  God  will  be  righteous, 
and  I  must  leave  it.  I  hope  my  children  will  not  be  so 
alienated  from  me  as  to  lose  their  affection  for  me,  because 
I  am  so  anxious  for  their  safety  that  I  cannot  but  express  a 
jealousy  for  them. 

"  I  do  not  censure  you,  my  daughter,  for  professing  re 
ligion  and  joining  your  brother's  church  ;  but  I  must  charge 
you,  that  you  do  not  rest  in  that  as  evidence  of  your  re- 


430  REMARKS    UPON 

ligion ;  but  see  that  you  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  your 
mind,  and  possess  a  new  nature  as  well  as  a  new  name. 
Let  your  heart  be  devoted  to  God.  Covet  the  society  of 
those  that  love  Christ  and  are  sincere  in  his  praise. 

"  I  have  written  thus  largely  to  you,  my  daughter,  in  the 
fulness  of  my  heart.  Can  you  think  it  is  because  I  love  you 
not  ?  God  knoweth  !  We  shall  probably  never  be  much 
more  together  in  this  world.  O,  my  child,  let  us  be  pre 
pared  to  live  with  Christ  in  the  world  to  come  ! 

"  J.   BUCKMINSTER." 

It  will  be  seen,  by  the  preceding  letters,  that  neither 
father  nor  son  had  changed  his  views  since  the  writing  of 
the  former  letters  previous  to  the  settlement  of  the  son. 
He,  who  had  always  felt  too  much  reverence  and  child 
like  submission  to  his  father  to  enter  into  controversy,  or 
even  to  defend  his  own  views,  seems  at  length,  in  the 
last  letter  he  ever  wrote,  to  have  resolved  to  take  up  the 
other  side  ;  or,  as  he  expresses  it,  to  present  the  oppo 
site  of  that  which  he  calls  u  the  revolting  forms  of  Cal 
vinism."  Had  not  death  intervened,  we  might  have 
been  able  to  read  in  his  own  words  the  result  of  his  life 
long  inquiries,  —  his  faithful,  thorough,  and  conscientious 
investigation  of  the  texts  and  authorities  upon  which 
Calvinism  rests  its  claims.  Death  interposed,  and, 
within  twenty-four  hours  of  time,  placed  them  face  to 
face,  without  a  veil  between,  where  they  could  read  the 
sublime  and  indelible  characters  of  eternal  truth. 

Perhaps  it  may  not  be  arrogant  to  say,  that  this  father 
and  son  presented  an  epitome  of  that  greater  controversy 
which  afterwards  divided  the  Church  and  community.  It 
may  here  be  seen,  divested  of  all  bitterness  and  wrath, 
and  wrung  reluctantly  from  both.  Both  were  equal  lov 
ers  of  the  truth,  both  sought  it  with  a  single  purpose, 


THE    CORRESPONDENCE.  431 

and  to  both  it  was  the  vital  element  of  thought  ;  and  we 
do  them  only  justice  to  believe,  that,  had  they  lived  in 
an  earlier  age  of  the  Church,  both  would  have  sealed 
their  confession  with  their  death. 

The  father  received  his  education  at  Yale  College  at 
the  beginning  of  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  when,  to 
use  the  \vords*of  a  son  of  Yale,  "the  religious  slate  of 
the  college  was  very  low,  and  it  must  have  been  from 
high  spirituality  of  feeling  that  any  young  man  would,  at 
that  time,  devote  himself  to  the  ministry."  His  own 
religious  convictions  were,  howrever,  at  that  time  strong, 
deep,  and  lasting.  We  quote  from  an  author  who  prob 
ably  received  the  information  from  Dr.  Buckminster 
himself,  that,  "  before  he  left  New  Haven,  he  was  under 
deep  conviction.  He  almost  sank  in  despair,  but  ob 
tained  the  glorious  hope  that  he  had  passed  from  death 
unto  life.  It  was  then  his  purpose,  as  it  was  afterwards 
his  greatest  delight,  to  consecrate  his  time,  his  talents, 
his  acquirements  to  the  cause  and  interest  of  the  Re 
deemer."  *  It  was  at  this  time,  doubtless,  that  he  wrote 
the  confession  of  faith  and  form  of  self-dedication  to  the 
service  of  God  which  appears  on  pages  19  —  23.  This 
is  a  confession  of  pure  Calvinism.  That  his  views  were 
afterwards  somewhat  modified  appears  from  his  not 
adopting  the  Assembly's  Catechism  for  his  eldest  chil 
dren  ;  and  that  these  views  had  not  the  supreme  impor 
tance  in  his  mind  at  one  period,  may  be  inferred  from 
the  little  prominence  that  is  given  to  them  in  the  prayers 
of  the  "  Piscataqua  Prayer-Book."  From  causes  obvious 
to  the  writer,  but  which  cannot  be  mentioned  here,  Dr. 
Buckminster  became  more  anxious,  in  the  last  years  of 

*  Rev.  Timothy  Alden,  of  Portsmouth. 


432  RELIGIOUS    DIFFERENCES. 

his  life,  to  enforce  his  own  peculiar  Calvinistic  faith  ;  and 
it  cannot  he  asserted,  that,  at  any  time,  there  was  any 
essential  change  from  that  early  confession  of  faith.  Af 
ter  his  settlement  over  a  parish,  he  certainly  did  not 
pursue  any  critical  or  Biblical  studies,  except  in  the 
common  version  of  the  English  Bible.  The  writer  does 
not  recollect  his  ever  reverting  to  any  other.  His  par 
ish  was  large,  and  he  was  extremely  devoted  to  parish 
duties.  He  could  not  be  called  a  student,  in  any  sense 
of  the  word,  except  so  far  as  writing  sermons  requires 
study.  He  wrote  a  large,  a  very  large,  number  of  ser 
mons,  and  probably  made  some  mental  preparation  for 
his  extemporaneous  addresses.  But  his  library  and  study- 
table  furnished  none  of  the  means,  as  his  constant  devo 
tion  to  his  parish  left  no  leisure,  for  critical  researches  or 
learned  investigation  ;  and,  in  his  letters  to  his  daughter, 
he  deprecates  tc  the  pride  of  science  and  the  wrangling 
of  scholars,"  and  avowrs  the  English  Bible  sufficient  for 
all  purposes  of  the  knowledge  of  God. 

The  early  years  of  his  son  were  passed  under  all  the 
influences  of  his  father's  faith,  enforced  and  strengthened 
by  the  example  of  his  father's  devout  and  eminently  pious 
life  ;  and  we  have  seen  that  his  own  genial  nature  was  not 
susceptible  of  gloom  or  superstition,  although  he  was  at 
a  very  early  age  a  thoughtful  and  deeply  reflective  youth. 
The  religion  that  he  learned  from  his  father  was  associated 
with  all  his  youthful  feelings  of  devotion,  and  was  prob 
ably  very  dear  to  his  young  affections.  It  must  have 
been  by  gradual  processes,  as  his  understanding  and  rea 
son  developed  and  his  inquiries  advanced,  that  Calvinism 
lost  its  hold  upon  his  affections,  as  it  did  upon  his  intel 
lect. 

We  have  seen  that  he  was  thoroughly  versed  in  the 


CRITICAL    STUDY    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES.  433 

languages  in  which  the  Scriptures  were  written,  and  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  classical  scholars  that  Harvard 
ever  sent  forth  from  its  honored  shades.  It  must  have 
been  from  the  love  of  truth,  that  he  was  led  to  investi 
gate  conscientiously,  as  he  did,  the  original  meaning  of 
the  words  in  which  the  Bible  was  written  ;  to  compare 
texts  and  commentators  ;  to  go  back  to  the  very  foun 
tain-head  ;  to  procure  the  earliest  copies  of  the  Scrip 
tures,  and  to  spend  days,  and  weeks,  and  months,  and 
years  in  efforts  to  restore  the  text  to  its  original  purity, 
with  all  the  helps  he  could  derive,  not  only  from  Bibli 
cal  scholars,  the  ancient  fathers,  and  the  earliest  teach 
ers  of  the  Church,  but  by  the  help  also  of  learned  com 
mentators  upon  what  are  called  the  profane  writers.  He 
made  the  Greek  language  his  study  till  the  day  of  his 
death,  in  order  to  give  its  help  to  his  conscientious  in 
quiries  ;  and  although  his  principles  of  interpretation,  and- 
many  of  his  reasonings,  are  not  those  of  a  large  number 
of  Biblical  critics,  his  candor,  and  honesty,  and  sincerity 
have  never  been  called  in  question.  An  extract  from  his 
journal  will  show  that  he  made  the  daily  duty  of  do 
mestic  worship  a  subsidiary  aid  to  his  own  studies  and 
researches.  It  is  immediately  after  his  settlement  :  — 
u  I  have  commenced  reading  Doddridge's  Family  Ex 
positor  in  the  morning,  before  family  prayers  ;  I  read 
the  text  and  notes,  with  the  improvement,  before  the 
domestics  are  called  in  to  hear  the  prayer.  After  break 
fast,  I  examine  the  difficult  passages  in  other  commen 
tators,  especially  in  Whitby,  and  read  the  original 
Greek,  and  Wakefield's  or  some  other  translation." 

His  library  was  dispersed,  by  public   sale,  after  his 
death  ;  but  could  some  of  the  books  that  were  his  daily 
study  have  been  preserved  together,  it  would  have  been 
37 


434  CRITICAL    STUDY    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES. 

seen  how  faithful  and  exact  was  his  reading.  He  read 
with  pencil  or  pen  in  his  hand,  and  many  of  his  books 
were  interleaved  for  the  purpose  of  making  his  own  re 
marks  or  those  of  others  as  he  read.  An  interleaved 
Grotius  De  Veritate  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
writer,  which  shows  his  careful  and  faithful  research. 
It  will  be  seen  in  the  Appendix  that  he  was  lavish  in 
his  expenditure  to  procure  ancient  copies  of  the  Scrip 
tures,  and  that  his  little  fortune  was  spent  in  obtaining 
the  books  which  he  felt  were  requisite  to  enable  him 
to  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth.  His  researches 
sent  him  back  behind  synods  and  councils  ;  behind  King 
James's  translation  of  the  Bible  ;  behind  Calvin  and 
Luther,  Athanasius  and  St.  Augustine,  to  the  simplicity 
of  the  primitive  Church,  to  the  faith  of  the  Apostles 
and  the  teaching  of  Christ.  That  with  all  these  aids, 
and  this  faithful  study,  the  son's  investigations  resulted 
in  a  firm  and  decided  faith  in  that  form  of  Christianity 
which  has  since  been  called  Unitarianism,  and  that  it 
was  painful  to  both  father  and  son  thus  to  differ,  is  equal 
ly  honorable  to  both.  Both  were  lovers  of  truth,  both 
conscientious,  and  yet  they  differed  toto  cce/o  in  their 
speculative  belief.  Who  shall  say  that  the  son  was  not 
as  honest  and  sincere  as  the  father  ?  that  conscience 
and  honor  did  not  enter  as  fully  into  his  studies  as  into 
those  of  his  father  ?  that  devotion  to  God,  and  love  to 
man,  were  not  as  much  the  moving  springs  in  his,  as  in 
his  father's  soul  ? 

The  results  to  which  each  had  come  they  both  taught 
unreservedly,  —  the  son  with  as  much  openness  as  the 
father,  but  without  giving  himself  a  name  ;  and  perhaps 
it  was  the  wish  and  hope  of  those  who  early  departed 
from  Calvinism  to  receive  no  sectarian  name,  —  to  be- 


PRACTICAL    RELIGION.  435 

long  to  that  antisectarian  sect,  "  whose  religion,"  ac 
cording  to  Dr.  Kirkland,  "  consisted  in  being  religious." 
His  preaching  met  the  wants  of  the  multitudes  who 
thronged  to  hear  him.  Those  who  had  found  Calvin 
ism  insufficient  for  the  wants  of  the  soul,  and  were 
tempted,  like  the  young  perscrh  to  whose  letter  he  refers, 
cc  to  wish,  that,  if  such  representations  of  Christianity 
were  a  just  picture  of  what  should  be  a  most  beneficent 
religion,  they  would  be  glad  to  find  it  not  true,"  —  such 
persons  were  nourished  and  made  better  by  his  preach 
ing. 

The  truth,  in  relation  to  father  and  son,  seemed  to 
demand  that  the  above  remarks  should  be  made,  not 
because,  in  the  humble  view  of  the  writer,  Calvinism 
or  Lutheranism  are  essential  forms  of  Christianity,  but 
in  anticipation  of  that  time,  when  religion  will  not  be 
wholly  concerned  with  speculative  doctrines,  but  with 
the  life  of  truth ;  and  that  life  not  manifested  by  the 
mere  externals  of  particular  forms  or  even  of  charities, 
but  by  the  beauty  of  holiness,  —  the  exhibition  of  the 
beauty  of  the  perfect  law,  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul 
of  man. 


CHAPTER     XX. 

DEATH     OF     REV.     MR.     EMERSON.  APPOINTMENT     OF     J.     S. 

BUCKMINSTER  AS  LECTURER  UPON  THE  DEXTER  FOUNDA 
TION  IN  HARVARD  COLLEGE.  STUDY  OF  GERMAN.  IN 
TELLECTUAL  CHARACTER  AND  HABITS. LAST  ILLNESS. 

1811.  IN    May  of   1811    died   the   Rev.   William 

Aged  27.  Emerson,  pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Bos 
ton.  This  church,  and  that  in  Brattle  Street,  had  been 
associated  together  in  the  interchange  of  their  sacra 
mental  lectures,  each  pastor  preaching  in  the  pulpit 
of  the  other  in  the  afternoon  of  the  Sabbath  of  the 
Lord's  Supper.  This  was  an  endearing  interchange 
of  ministerial  duties,  and,  to  one  as  susceptible  of  all 
Christian  charities  as  was  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street, 
it  was  sufficient  to  bind  Mr.  Emerson  to  him  in  tender 
relations.  My  brother  preached  the  funeral  sermon,  and, 
in  reverting  to  the  circumstance  that  the  pastors  of  the 
two  churches  had  alternately  officiated  at  each  other's 
obsequies,  a  prophetic  foreboding  escaped  him,  that  he 
should  next  follow  his  brother.  A  personal  feeling  of 
regretful  resignation  selected  the  words  which  he  in 
troduced  towards  the  close  of  the  sermon,  - 

"  O,  't  is  well 

With  him  !     But  who  knows  what  the  coming  hour, 
Veiled  in  thick  darkness,  brings  for  us  ?  " 


SER3ION    ON    THE    DEATH    OF    REV.    MR.    EMERSON.        437 

In  this  sermon  he  spoke  of  the  value  of  posthumous 
reputation. 

"  Though  one  of  the  most  common,  it  is  still  one  of  the 
sweetest,  rewards  of  acknowledged  and  respected  virtue,  to 
leave  the  minds  of  survivors  turning  involuntarily  towards 
the  contemplation  of  that  worth  which  they  are  no  longer 
to  enjoy.  Then  the  excellences  of  the  departed  take  full 
possession  of  our  imaginations ;  and  we  find  ourselves  en 
gaged  in  calling  up  their  merits,  which,  because  we  had 
so  little  fear  of  losing,  we  had,  perhaps,  undervalued,  or  not 
fully  regarded.  Then,  when  we  find  them  no  more  in  the 
places  which  once  knew  them,  recollection  is  busy  about 
the  spots  which  they  frequented,  and  there  start  up  a  thou 
sand  affecting  remembrances  of  their  character  and  man 
ners.  When  we  are  called  upon  to  supply  their  places,  the 
task  is  found  more  painful  and  difficult  than  we  had  imag 
ined  ;  and  we  begin  to  wish  that  we  had  valued  them  more, 
and  loved  them  better,  as  well  as  enjoyed  them  longer. 
The  void  left  by  the  death  of  good  men  time  does  not  fill, 
indeed,  but  only  throws  further  back  into  the  retrospect. 
We  come  to  their  last  obsequies  with  unwonted  fondness ; 
our  lips  are  ready  to  show  forth  their  praise  ;  our  affections 
linger  about  their  graves ;  we  feel  more  than  ever  that  we 
are  '  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth,'  and  wish  more 
than  ever  to  '  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,' 

"  This  sentiment  of  posthumous  regard,  so  tender,  and 
yet  so  strong,  is  the  reward  only  of  genuine  worth,  and  is 
entirely  different  from  those  demonstrations  of  respect  which 
are  paid  to  men  who  have  enjoyed  the  more  distinction 
during  life  the  less  intimately  they  were  known,  and  whom 
we  consent  to  bury  with  honor,  to  avoid  the  further  ex 
pression  of  our  real  opinion.  He  whose  remains  are  now 
before  us  has  left  many  bowed  down  with  unaffected 
37* 


438  SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF 

grief,  who  come  prepared  and  willing  now  to  dwell  awhile 
on  his  character.  Affection  and  faithful  memory,  therefore, 
will  supply  whatever  may  be  wanting  in  the  following  re 
marks,  which  are  made  with  something  of  that  restraint 
which  would  be  felt  if  the  departed  were  capable  of  now 
listening  to  the  speaker.  For  there  is  something  sacred  in 
the  presence  of  his  remains,  to  which  reverence  and  mod 
esty  are  due,  no  less  than  truth  and  affection." 

In  October  of  this  year  died  the  Hon.  James  Bow- 
doin.  He  had  ever  been  a  member  of,  and  a  bene 
factor  to,  the  church  of  Brattle  Street.*  It  was  in 
his  family  that  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street  was  re 
ceived  with  so  much  kindness,  while  the  former  was 
ambassador,  and  the  latter  wras  visiting  Paris  in  1806. 
To  him,  and  to  Mrs.  Bowdoin,  was  he  continually  in 
debted  for  the  expression  of  a  warm  and  most  affection 
ate  friendship.  A  part  of  the  sermon  preached  the  Sab 
bath  after  his  interment  was  published,  the  closing  para 
graphs  of  which  are  here  inserted. 

"But  I  see  before  me  an  object f  which  admonishes  us 
that  the  usual  time  of  service  has  elapsed,  while  we  have 
been  speaking  of  him  whose  name  it  bears.  Once  it  re 
minded  us  of  his  bounty  ;  now  it  reminds  us  of  his  de 
parture.  Once  it  told  us  that  he  remembered  us ;  now  it 
calls  on  us  to  remember  him.  Lately  it  measured  the  hand- 
breadth  of  his  age,  as  it  now  measures  our  own  ; 

*  Mr.  Bowdoin,  in  his  will,  left  fifty  pounds  to  the  church  in  Brat 
tle  Square,  and  fifty  to  the  pastor. 

f  The  former  clock  in  the  church  in  Brattle  Square  was  given  by 
Governor  Bowdoin;  but  as  it  was  old  and  much  out  of  repair,  the  late 
Mr.  Bowdoin  replaced  it  not  long  before  his  death  by  the  present 
time-piece. 


HON.    JAMES    BOWDOIN.  439 

but  to  him  hours  and  weeks  and  days  and  years  revolve 
no  more  !  He  has  entered  on  an  unmeasurable  period  ! 

"  How  fair  an  emblem  is  this  of  man  himself;  — always 
passing  on,  yet  unconscious  of  his  own  motion  !  When  we 
fix  our  attention  on  the  moment  which  is  passing,  we  seem 
to  arrest  it.  We  discern  no  lapse.  All  appears  stationary, 
and  the  time  is  long  and  tedious.  But  let  us  withdraw  our 
attention  from  the  dial,  and  yield  ourselves  for  a  few 
moments  to  the  usual  succession  of  thoughts,  and  when  we 
return  again  to  examine  the  index  of  our  time,  what  a  space 
has  been  traversed  ! 

"  Is  it  possible  that  a  minute  can  be  made  to  appear  so 
long  by  attention  ?  How  long,  then,  might  the  whole  of 
life  be  made  to  appear,  would  we  but  attend  to  it,  and  vigi 
lantly  mark  and  improve  the  hours  ! But  that  steady 

monitor  proceeds,  whether  we  mark  or  not  its  motion.  Here, 
in  the  place  of  our  solemnities,  it  measures  off  some  of  the 
most  important  portions  of  life.  Presently  the  shadows  of 
the  evening  will  rest  on  this  holy  place,  and  this  house  be 
emptied  of  its  worshippers.  Presently,  after  a  few  more 
revolutions  of  those  unconscious  indexes,  not  one  of  these 
worshippers  will  be  heard  of  on  earth.  The  places  which 
now  know  them  will  know  them  no  more  for  ever ;  and  when 
it  is  asked,  Where  are  they  ?  the  answer  must  be,  They  are 
gone  to  appear  before  God  ! 

"  Lord,  make  us  to  know  the  measure  of  our  days 

to  mark  the  shadow  of  our  lives !  For  man  that  is  born  of 
woman  fleeth  as  a  shadow  and  continueth  not." 

One  other  production  of  his  pen  belonging  to  this  year 
or  the  preceding,  is  a  memorial  addressed  to  the  Over 
seers  of  the  College,  upon  the  subject  nearest  his  heart, 
a  professorship  of  sacred  literature.  This  is  an  elo 
quent  paper  ;  but  as  the  object,  holding  in  his  estimation 
so  profound  an  interest,  was  this  year  effected,  this  me 
morial  could  have  had  but  a  passing  interest. 


440  APPOINTMENT  AS  LECTURER 

His  sermons  this  year  were  not  inferior  in  interest  to 
any  that  he  had  preached.  By  a  memorandum,  pre 
served  among  his  papers,  it  appears  that  he  wrote,  in 
the  course  of  the  year,  fifty-seven,  and  preached  in  his 
own  pulpit  sixty-nine  times. 

"  This  year,  1811,  he  received  a  proof  of  the  estimation 
in  which  his  knowledge  in  his  favorite  walk  of  study  was 
held,  by  his  appointment  as  first  lecturer  on  Biblical  criti 
cism,  upon  the  foundation  established  by  the  Hon.  Samuel 
Dexter.  This  appointment  was  universally  thought  to  be 
an  honor  most  justly  due  to  his  preeminent  attainments  in 
this  science."  * 

His  reply  to  the  letter  of  appointment  was  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

"To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Kirkland,  President  of  the  University  in 
Cambridge :  — 

"  SIR,  —  I  have  received  from  you  the  official  notice  of 
my  unexpected  appointment  to  the  office  of  first  lecturer  on 
the  Dexter  foundation.  The  trustees  will  please  to  accept 
my  acknowledgments  for  the  honor  which  they  have  con 
ferred,  and  of  which  you,  sir,  have  informed  me  in  a  man 
ner  that  deserves  my  gratitude.  Nothing,  beside  the  cus 
tomary  pleas  of.  want  of  leisure  and  abilities,  has  occurred 
to  me  as  a  peculiar  objection  to  my  acceptance  of  this  duty, 
except  the  previous  conviction  that  the  introductory  lectures, 
on  this  difficult  subject,  should  be  entrusted  to  some  one 
whose  age  and  acknowledged  merits  in  theology  would  gain 
for  them  more  consideration  than  will  probably  be  secured 
by  the  present  appointment. 

"  If  this  suggestion  has  already  received  the  full  consid 
eration  which  it  seems  to  me  to  deserve,  and  of  which,  but 
for  the  result  of  your  meeting,  I  should  have  no  doubt,  I 

*  Thacher's  Memoir. 


ON    BIBLICAL    CRITICISM.  441 

am  ready  to  submit  to  the  final  opinion  of  those  whom  I 
have  always  been  accustomed  to  respect,  and,  if  they 
should  so  determine,  prepare  myself,  as  well  as  the  time 
allowed,  and  my  own  health,  will  permit,  to  execute  the  du 
ties  of  the  appointment." 

Mr.  Buckminster  received  this  appointment  with  the 
highest  gratification  ;  although  there  is  no  doubt  of  the 
sincerity  and  real  diffidence  with  which  he  suggested 
that  some  older  theologian  should  deliver  the  introduc 
tory  lectures.  He  began  an  extensive  preparation  with 
the  greatest  ardor,  and  by  a  minute  review  of  his  former 
reading.  He  immediately  sent  a  large  order  to  Ger 
many  for  books,  and  began  the  study  of  the  German 
language  with  such  intensity  of  interest  as  to  deprive 
him  of  sleep.  Every  hour  of  the  day  was  occupied 
with  its  appropriate  duty  ;  but,  to  secure  the  acquisition 
of  German,  he  made  the  effort  of  rising  two  hours 
earlier  in  the  morning,  intending  to  retire  earlier  at 
•night.  The  master  was  engaged  for  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  the  pupil  was  usually  ready  ;  but  it  was 
impossible  to  keep  the  second  part  of  the  resolution,  — 
that  of  retiring  early.  Like  all  persons  of  ardent  and 
nervous  temperament,  the  fear  of  sleeping  too  late,  and 
the  intensity  of  interest  in  a  new  study,  deprived  him 
of  the  blessed  refreshment  of  sleep,  at  the  very  time  he 
most  needed  its  restorative  powers.  His  sister  writes, 
in  a  letter  of  this  date  :  —  cc  Joseph,  I  fear,  will  make 
himself  ill,  for  he  has  taken  it  into  his  head  to  study 
German,  and,  for  this  purpose,  has  a  master  with  him 
from  six  to  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  It  is  true 
he  has  generally  gone  to  bed  rather  before  his  usual 
time  ;  but  he  is  so  much  interested,  that  he  sleeps  very 
little." 


442  STUDY    OF    GERMAN. 

t 

It  was  in  consequence  of  the  appointment  of  lecturer 
that  he  began  the  study  of  German.  It  appears,  by  a 
letter  to  Dr.  Herbert  Marsh,  of  the  preceding  year,  that 
it  had  been  hitherto  precluded  by  other  studies. 

"May  13th,  1810. 

"Sin,  —  I  have  no  excuse  to  offer  for  the  presumption 
of  directing  these  lines  to  you,  except  admiration  of  your 
learning,  gratitude  for  your  labors,  and  the  persuasion  that 
it  will  not  be  disagreeable  to  you  to  receive  from  this  re 
mote  region  an  edition  of  Griesbach's  Greek  Testament, 
executed  with  care  and  accuracy.  It  is  copied,  page  for 
page,  from  Goschen's  octavo  edition,  Leipsic,  1805,  which 
I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  bring  with  me  from  Europe,  and 
to  persuade  the  government  of  our  University,  at  Cam 
bridge,  to  reprint  and  introduce  as  a  text-book.  The  young 
gentleman  who  gives  you  this  note*  is  intended  for  a 
preacher,  and  proposes  to  finish  his  studies  at  Edinburg. 
But,  as  soon  as  I  learned  that  you  had  commenced  a  course  of 
lectures  at  Cambridge,  I  admitted  the  hope  that  some  of  my 
young  countrymen  might  have  the  privilege  of  hearing, 
them;  upon  what  terms  this  may  be  obtained  I  have  re 
quested  him  to  inquire,  and,  if  possible,  avail  himself  of 
this  opportunity. 

"  I  had  the  happiness  of  spending  a  few  days  at  Cam 
bridge  in  the  summer  of  1807,  but  you  were  absent.  By 
the  kindness  of  Dr.  Abthorp,  and  his  friends,  of  Emanuel 
College,  I  received  every  attention,  which  I  remember  with 
the  utmost  kindness  and  gratitude.  But,  sir,  I  feel  under  in 
expressible  obligations  to  you  for  the  translation  of  Mi- 
chaelis,  which  has  made  a  new  era  in  my  mind,  and  I  am 
almost  ashamed  to  express  the  impatience  with  which  I  an 
ticipate  the  conclusion  of  your  notes. 

"  Such  is  the  extent  of  my  parish,  and  the  variety  of  my 

*  Rev.  Francis  Parkman,  D.  D.,  of  Boston. 


HABITS    OF    STUDY.  443 

duties  to  that,  as  well  as  to  society  at  large,  that  I  have 
neither. time  nor  courage  at  present  for  the  acquisition  of  the 
German  language.  And  yet  there  are  several  points  of 
theological  inquiry  which  I  burn  to  explore,  and  I  would 
willingly  relinquish  all  knowledge  of  French  for  this  single 
acquisition.  But  at  present  I  feel  condemned  to  painful  ig 
norance,  encouraging  myself  with  the  hope  that  you,  or 
some  of  your  pupils,  will  soon  do  that  for  Eichhorn  which 
you  have  done  so  well  for  Michaelis." 

It  would  be  perhaps  a  fruitless  wish  to  endeavour  to 
give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  intensity  of  interest  with 
which  he  pursued  his  new  study,  and  all  the  studies 
connected  with  his  new  object.  His  love  of  study  had 
always  been  the  passion  of  his  soul,  and  accounts  for  a 
peculiarity  of  manner  mentioned  by  his  former  biog 
rapher. 

"  Though  he  was  eminently  and  habitually  cheerful," 
says  Mr.  Thacher,  "  there  were  occasional  inequalities  in 
his  manner ;  and  there  were  moments  when  there  appeared 
in  him  a  sort  of  reserve,  and  want  of  interest  in  those  about 
him,  which  made  his  character  misunderstood  by  some  who, 
if  they  had  known  him  more,  would  have  found  him  formed 
to  engage  all  their  esteem  and  love.  These  occasional  de 
partures  from  his  habitual  manners  were,  I  am  confident,  to 
be  traced  to  his  bodily  indisposition.  Many  of  his  friends, 
who  have  entered  his  room  when  he  was  suffering  under 
this  effect  of  disease,  well  remember,  that,  after  a  few  mo 
ments'  conversation,  he  would  shake  off  the  oppression  of 
his  languor,  his  wonted  smile  would  play  over  his  features, 
that  peculiar  animation  which  usually  lighted  up  his  coun 
tenance  would  again  break  out,  and  he  would  enter  into 
any  subject  proposed  with  the  warmest  and  liveliest  in 
terest." 


444  INTELLECTUAL    HABITS. 

I  should  give  a  different  solution  of  his  apparent  ab 
sence  of  manner  at  some  moments.  He  was  a  thorough 
student.  His  heart  was  in  his  studies.  When  he  was 
employed  with  his  books,  during  the  day,  he  was  per 
petually  withdrawn  from  them  by  the  various  interrup 
tions  of  business  and  friends.  When,  therefore,  he  was 
broken  in  upon,  while  his  attention  was  wholly  absorbed 
by  some  favorite  study,  he  could  not  immediately  re 
cover  the  elasticity  of  his  mind,  and  enter  into  a  subject 
wholly  foreign,  or  into  the  cares  or  the  pleasures  of  his 
visitor.  That  he  had  moments  of  deep  depression, 
when  he  reflected  upon  the  probable  consequences  of 
his  malady,  is,  no  doubt,  true  ;  but  he  never  allowed 
himself  in  any  morbid  contemplation  of  possible  evils. 
His  faith  in  the  beneficence  of  God  was  the  ruling  influ 
ence  of  his  mind.  I  cannot  so  well  describe  his  intel 
lectual  habits  as  in  the  words  of  the  elegant  biography 
to  which  I  have  been  so  often  indebted. 

"  Tn  his  intellectual  habits,  I  do  not  remember  to  have  re 
marked  any  singularity.  He  was  a  real  student.  He  had 
that  first  requisite  of  all  true  and  durable  greatness,  —  the 
habit  of  patient  and  long-continued  attention.  He  possessed 
the  genuine  fyikoTtovia,  the  love  of  labor  for  itself.  Fie 
could  delight  in  the  driest  and  most  minute  researches,  as 
well  as  in  the  lofty  and  ethereal  visions  of  fancy.  Like 
the  majority  of  men  of  learning,  he  loved  to  read  more 
than  to  think,  and  to  think  more  than  to  write.  He  com 
posed  with  rapidity,  but  with  intellectual  toil  ;  and  his  best 
efforts  were  not  made  without  a  high  degree  of  mental  ex 
citement.  If  I  were  required  to  state,  in  one  word,  in  what 
branch  of  knowledge  his  excellence  was  most  conspicuous, 
I  should  say  it  was  philology,  —  understanding  by  this  word 
the  knowledge  of  language  as  an  instrument  of  thought,  in 


PHILOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  445 

all  its  propriety  and  force,  as  well  as  in  all  its  shades  and 
varieties  of  meaning  ;  in  its  general  theory,  as  well  as  in 
its  modifications  in  different  countries ;  and,  finally,  in  all  its 
grace  and  beauty,  as  it  is  fitted  to  invest  truth  in  its  richest 
and  most  attractive  dress. 

"  But  it  was  the  light  which  philology  pours  on  the  rec 
ords  of  our  faith  and  hope,  which  gave  it  its  chief  value  to 
the  mind  of  Mr.  Buckminster.  It  was  the  study  of  the 
Scriptures  in  their  original  languages,  which  most  power 
fully  seized  and  occupied  his  attention,  and  engaged  him  in 
a  course  of  inquiries  which  he  never  thought  himself  at  lib 
erty  long  to  desert.  He  was  always  of  opinion  that  the 
principles  of  Christianity,  in  their  original  purity  and  sim 
plicity,  were  to  be  preserved  where  they  are  already  held, 
and' recalled  where  they  are  lost  or  obscured,  only  by  the 
study  of  the  Bible,  according  to  the  maxims  of  a  sound, 
and  enlightened,  and  cautious  criticism.  One  of  his  strong 
est  passions  was  a  desire  to  diffuse  a  love  of  Biblical  studies; 
and  the  impulse,  among  us,  which  has  lately  been  given  to 
inquiries  on  these  subjects,  is  to  be  attributed  to  his  exer 
tions  and  example."* 

To  the  above  I  am  permitted  to  add  the  testimony 
of  one  who  knew  him  well,  and  who  was  eminently  able 
to  appreciate  his  attainments,  f 

"  Mr.  Buckminster  was  a  thorough  scholar,  and  always  a 
diligent  student.  In  theology,  he  lelonged  to  the  class^of 
liberal  inquirers.  But,  though  deeply  sensible  of  his  duty 
to  derive  his  faith  from  the  Christian  Scriptures,  and  un 
willing  to  submit  his  understanding  to  the  dictation^  of 
others,  he  had  too  strong  a  mind,  and  far  too  much  learn 
ing,  "as  well  as  too  profound  a  sense  of  responsibility,  to 
permit  of  his  embracing  any  of  those  wild  opinions  which 

*  Thacher's  Memoir.  t  Mr.  William  Wells. 

38 


446  INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER. 

are  supposed,  by  those  who  hold  them,  to  be  modern  discov 
eries,  but  which  he  knew  had  been  long  ago  examined  and 
refuted.  He  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  writings  of 
the  eminent  English  Unitarians  of  the  last  century,  and  held 
them  in  high  estimation,  not  only  for  having  done  so  much 
towards  the  introduction  and  establishment  of  liberal  in 
quiries  in  England,  but  as  having  introduced  into  this  coun 
try  those  principles  of  Scripture  interpretation  which  have 
spread  so  widely,  and  to  the  support  and  dissemination  of 
which  he  himself  contributed  so  eminently  and  largely." 

The  various  accounts  which  have  been  given  of  Mr. 
Buckminster's  studies  indicate  very  distinctly  the  char 
acter  of  his  intellect ;  they  enable  us  to  anticipate  what 
he  would  have  accomplished  had  his  life  been  spared, 
and  the  influence  he  might  have  exerted  upon  the  litera 
ture  of  the  country.  His  mind  was  not  of  that  lofty 
character  which  can  dwell  perpetually  in  abstractions, 
and  win  for  itself  glory  in  metaphysical  and  mathematical 
science.  His  mind  was  rapid  and  clear  in  its  operations, 
and  both  inventive  and  illustrative  ;  correct,  acute,  and 
thorough  in  criticism.  He  was  able  to  compass,  by  a 
rapid  intellectual  survey,  directed  by  quick  moral  per 
ceptions,  that  which  the  moral  reasoner  arrives  at  by 
slow  and  laborious  processes.  I  avail  myself  here  of 
the  words  of  a  friend  and  classmate,*  in  describing  the 
character  of  his  intellect. 

"  I  confine  myself,"  says  his  friend,  "  principally  to  liter- 
at^re,  in  the  limited  and  appropriate  signification  of  the  term. 
He  was  not  a  man  of  science,  as  that  term  is  technically 
used.  The  mathematics  he  did  not  love.  He  had  no 'taste 
for  abstract  studies,  and  in  this  early  part  of  his  life  he  man- 

*  Rev.  Joshua  Bates,  D.  D. 


INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER.  447 

ifesied  an  aversion  to  metaphysical  speculations  and  tran 
scendental  flights  of  fancy.  It  is  true,  he  made  himself  ac 
quainted  with  what  may  be  called  the  'literature  of  sci 
ence.'  He  knew  the  origin,  the  progress,  the  state,  indeed 
the  whole  history,  of  every  science  of  the  age.  He  could 
tell  who  made  each  discovery,  and  who  was  the  inventor  of 
the  instruments,  and  what  were  the  appliances  by  which  it 
was  made.  He  could  speak  learnedly  of  the  character  and 
merits  of  the  philosophers  of  all  ages  and  countries,  and 
beautifully  illustrate  the  topics  of  literature  on  which  he  des 
canted  by  appropriate  allusions  to  the  success  of  scientific 
principles.  But  here  his  intercourse  with  the  sciences,  es 
pecially  the  abstract  sciences,  ended.  The  principles  them 
selves  he  never  investigated.  The  details  of  classification 
and  the  tedious  steps  of  demonstration  he  never  pursued. 
He  had  no  taste  for  the  study  of  the  pure  mathematics,  nor 
_did  he-xelish  at  all  the  tardy  and  entangled  processes  of  log 
ical  deduction  and  metaphysical  disquisition. 

"  At  the  period  of  our  college  life,  very  little  oral  instruc 
tion  was  imparted  to  the  students.  Two  public  lectures  were 
delivered,  and  no  familiar  illustrations  were  given  in  con 
nection  with  the  study  of  the  prescribed  text-books.  Of 
course,  the  acquisitions  of  students  depended  very  much  on 
their  own  efforts  and  ingenuity.  Every  one  had  much  time 
to  devote  to  studies  of  his  own  choice,  and  the  education  ob 
tained  by  any  was,  much  more  than  at  present,  self-educa 
tion.  The  kind  and  degree  of  each  one's  attainment  cor 
responded  very  nearly  with  his  taste,  capacity,  and  efforts, 
his  genius  and  industry.  This  fact  made  Mr.  Buckminster 
a  man  of  literature  rather  than  of  science  ;  a  scholar  of 
high  order,  but  not  of  universal  attainments  ;  a  man  of  learn 
ing  as  well  as  genius,  but  not  distinguished  for  deep  re 
search  and  analytical  investigation  ;  a  model  in  matters  jaf 
taste,  grammatical :.  accuracy  jjand.  rhetorical  beauty,  but  not 
in  logical  deduction,  abstract  reasoning,  and  philosophical 
criticism. 


448  INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER. 

"  I  should  speak  of  the  fixedness  of  his  attention  to  the 
chosen  objects  of  his  contemplation,  and  the  perfect  com 
mand  which  he  possessed  over  the  current  of  his  associated 
thoughts,  as  the  first  and  most  obvious  quality  of  his  mind. 
His  perceptive  powers  were  quick  and  excursive.  This  has 
already  been  stated  with  reference  to  the  rapid  movement 
and  far-searching  glance  of  his  eye.  •  But  the  statement 
should  not  be  confined  to  the  sense  of  sight.  The  remark 
might  be  extended  with  truth  to  all  his  organs  and  powers  of 
perception,  for  they  were  all  connected  with  a  keen  and  del 
icate  sensibility,  and  directed  by  an  irrepressible  desire  of 
knowledge. 

"Of  the  principles  of  association,  on  which  memory  and 
imagination,  comparison  and  the  processes  of  reasoning  de 
pend,  as  they  were  developed  in  his  mind  and  exercised  in 
his  literary  career,  by  which  he  acquired  knowledge  so  easi 
ly  and  rapidly,  and  by  which  his  acquisitions  were  held  so 
firmly,  and  held  in  such  distinct  classification  as  to  be  always 
ready  for  appropriate  use,  —  of  these  principles,  as  they  ex 
isted  in  his  mind,  I  should  say  they  were  those  which  belong 
to  the  poet  rather  than  the  philosopher.  His  mind  moved, 
indeed,  habitually  under  the  control  of  the  will,  and,  with  a 
self-command  rarely  possessed,  he  was  able  to  exclude  from 
it  every  unwelcome  thought  and  intruding  idea,  and  his  as 
sociations  were  such  as  fitted  him  to  excel  in  literature 

His  imagination  was  at  once  excursive  and  brilliant,  chaste, 
correct,  and  rich  in  its  combinations,  furnishing  copious  ma 
terials  for  rhetorical  embellishment.  Indeed,  it  may  be  af 
firmed,  though  he  did  not  write  poetry,  he  was  '  born  a  poet,' 
and  possessed  all  the  elements  of  poetic  genius.  Had  he 
been  willing,  in  his  literary  career,  to  stop  at  the  foot  of  Par 
nassus  and  drink  largely  of  the  waters  of  the  Castalian  fount, 
and  sport  long  with  the  Muses  that  play  on  its  banks,  he 
might  have  been  inspired  with  the  spirit  of  poetry,  and  have 
become  in  his  day  the  Poet  of  America. 


INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER.  449 

"  In  conclusion,  I  subjoin  the  following  strong  but  sincere 
remark.  Among  all  my  literary  friends  in  college,  and  during 
a  long  life  of  familiarity  with  men  distinguished  in  the  several 
departments  of  learning  arid  the  learned  professions  in  vari 
ous  parts  of  our  country,  I  have  never  found  one  who 
seemed  to  me  to  possess  more  of  that  indescribable  charac 
ter  of  mind,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  a  more  complete  com 
bination  of  those  intellectual  powers  and  susceptibilities  which 
we  usually  denominate  genius,  than  JOSEPH  STEVENS  BUCK- 
MINSTER.  I  have  known  men  of  more  universal  scholarship 
and  men  of  more  dazzling  wit ;  indeed,  I  was  about  to  make 
an  exception  in  favor  of  Fisher  Ames,  who,  in  some  respects, 
especially  in  the  sudden  bursts  of  eloquence,  and  the  brilliant 
train  of  thought,  and  rich  display  of  metaphor,  which  marked 
his  public  speeches  and  even  his  private  conversation,  cer 
tainly  excelled  all  men  of  my  acquaintance.  But  notwith 
standing  this  modification,  I  can  make  no  essential  abatement 
from  the  general  statement  expressive  of  my  admiration  of 
Buckminster's  genius.  He,  indeed,  furnished  my  standard 
of  genius  ;  for  his  was  a  genius  pure  and  elevated,  steady 
and  uniform  in  its  movements,  exempt  from  the  depressions 
of  morbid  sensibility  and  the  erratic  flights  of  spasmodic 
action." 

Those  pursuits  which  were  entirely  voluntary,  discon 
nected  with  the  wide  field  of  duty,  the  little  garden  cf 
delight  reserved  for  his  leisure  hours,  —  if  he  may  be 
said  to  have  had  any  leisure  hours,  —  were  the  study  of 
the  ancient  classics,  particularly  the  Greek  and  Latin 
poets.  In  this  connection  I  cannot  refuse  myself  the 
pleasure  of  introducing,  although  it  is  somewhat  out  of 
place,  the  description  of  his  translation  of  a  passage  of 
Homer  when  he  was  only  thirteen  years  old. 

"  I  remember,  in  particular,"  says  the  friend  just  referred 
to,  "  his  admirable  reading  and  translation  of  a  long  passage 

38* 


450  CHARACTER    OF    fclS    SERMONS. 

in  the  Iliad  of  Homer.  He  read  the  Greek  as  if  it  had  been 
his  vernacular  language,  with  ease,  pliancy,  and  expressive 
ness,  and  his  translation  was  at  once  free  and  accurate,  neat 
and  comprehensive,  perspicuous  and  elegant.  Indeed,  the 
very  soul  of  the  poet  seemed  to  be  infused  into  the  beautiful 
and  expressive  language  of  the  translator.  I  had  never 
heard  Homer  so  read  and  so  translated,  and  the  admiration 
felt  by  me  was  evidently  felt  by  all  present." 

Here,  perhaps,  some  few  remarks  maybe  appropriate 
upon  the  sermons,  which  now  remain  as  the  only  evi 
dence  of  the  character  and  genius  which,  by  the  consent 
of  all  who  knew  him,  have  been  ascribed  to  Mr.  Buck- 
minster.  His  active  ministry,  excluding  the  time  he 
passed  in  Europe,  amounted  to  six  years.  In  that  time, 
he  wrote  about  two  hundred  and  forty  sermons.  It  may, 
in  truth,  be  said  that  it  is  not  what  one  accomplishes  in 
life,  but  what  one  is,  which  constitutes  greatness  ;  some 
thing  there  is  in  the  character  which  outruns  all  the  per 
formance.  Campbell  lived  to  old  age,  and  wrote  a  great 
number  of  books  ;  but  his  Hope,  his  Gertrude  of  Wyo 
ming,  and  his  deathless  songs  alone,  will  tell  to  future 
ages  that  Campbell  lived.  Goethe  said  to  Eckermann, 
"  Half  a  million  of  my  own  money,  the  fortune  I  inher 
ited,  my  salary,  and  the  large  income  derived  from  my 
writings  for  fifty  years,  have  been  expended  to  make  me 
what  I  now  am."  Of  the  sermons  in  question,  it  has 
been  well  said  that  none  of  them  seem  to  be  the  result 
of  any  extraordinary  effort,  like  the  grand  sermons  of 
Robert  Hall,  or  some  of  the  splendid  performances  of 
Dr.  Channing  ;  "  but  they  are  rather  the  usual  and 
easy  production  of  a  mind,  whose  ordinary  movements 
were  high  and  beautiful,  and  which  left  its  own  impress 
of  genius  upon  all  its  works."  They  are  character 


CHAEM    OF    HIS    ENUNCIATION.  451 

passed  into  thought,  —  "  earnest  feeling,  steeped  in  that 
beauty  which  emanates  from  genius  inspired  by  faith." 
No  one  of  the  sermons,  therefore,  surpasses  very  much 
the  others.  They  are  the  ordinary  expression  of  his 
usual  train  of  thought.  Of  the  sermons  which  remain 
unpublished,  there  is  scarcely  one  which  does  not  contain 
passages  of  eminent  beauty  and  power.  The  efforts  of 
such  a  mind  cannot  be  measured.  The  diurnal  rule  of 
such  a  life  is  benefaction. 

In  speaking  of  his  sermons,  also,  the  peculiar  charm 
and  power  of  his  oratory  should  never  be  omitted. 
"  The  impression  they  made  depended,  in  no  small  de 
gree,  upon  the  distinctness  of  articulation,  the  propriety 
of  pronunciation,  the  melody  of  intonation,  the  power  of 
emphasis  and  expression,  together  with  the  perfect  sym 
metry  of  action  and  completeness  of  enunciation."  The 
remarks  of  a  classmate  *  are  here  quoted  in  proof  of  the 
power  and  charm  of  his  reading. 

"  At  the  close  of  the  meeting  of  a  '  Composition  Club,' 
where  he  had  been  the  reader  of  the  anonymous  pieces 
drawn  from  the  secret  box,  it  was  remarked,  '  When  Buck- 
minster  reads,  all  the  compositions  are  good.'  No  one,  as 
it  seemed  to  me,  could  read  like  him,  and  give  to  every  letter 
its  full  power,  to  every  syllable  its  distinct  weight,  to  every 
word  its  just  emphasis  and  appropriate  modulation,  to  every 
phrase  and  sentence  their  precise  meaning,  their  complete 
and  expressive  import.  His  excellent  reading  was,  indeed, 
the  foundation  of  his  enchanting  eloquence,  and  his  eloquent 
delivery  gave  the  crowning  glory  to  his  compositions.  Were 
you  now  to  go  about  among  the  elderly  members  of  the 
Brattle  Street  congregation,  and  ask  them  what  they  think 

*  Rev.  Dr.  Bates. 


452  GRACE    AND    BEAUTY    OF 

of  Mr.  Buckminster's  published  sermons,  they  would,  I  think, 
tell  you,  that,  excellent  as  they  consider  these  discourses, 
they  are  altogether  inferior  to  many  which  they  heard  him 
preach.  They  might  not  be  aware  of  the  cause  of  this 
inferiority ;  but  to  the  philosophic  mind,  accustomed  to  ana 
lyze,  that  cause  must  be  obvious  at  once.  It  is  found  in 
his  delivery,  —  his  excellent  reading,  combined  with  the 
beauty  of  his  person  and  his  appropriate  action,  —  in  the 
various  qualities  which,  united,  go  to  form  complete  ele 
gance  and  constitute  a  perfect  orator.  Such  truly  was 
Buckminster.  His  enunciation  and  expression,  his  brilliant 
eye,  the  mingled  sweetness  and  strength,  solemnity  and 
cheerfulness,  intelligence  and  pathos,  which  continually  per 
vaded  and  animated  his  whole  countenance  while  speaking, 
gave  to  his  discourses  more  than  half  their  charm,  and  en 
abled  him  to  exert  an  absolute  control  over  the  feelings  of 
his  audience. 

"  If  it  were  proper  to  apply  the  term  beauty  in  describing 
the  personal  appearance  of  any  man,  I  should  say,  that  no 
man  ever  possessed  in  a  higher  degree  than  he  the  ele 
ments  of  this  quality.  And  the  influence  which  this  had 
on  his  popularity  as  a  public  speaker,  and  even  as  a  preach 
er,  was,  as  I  have  intimated,  by  no  means  unimportant.  It 
ought  not  therefore  to  be  omitted,  in  an  attempt  to  delineate 
his  character  as  an  orator.  As  he  stood  in  the  pulpit  and 
delivered  his  message,  you  could  discover  no  defect  in  form 
or  manner,  in  attitude  or  movement,  in  utterance  or  ex 
pression  ;  —  all  was  symmetry,  propriety,  elegance.  He  was 
indeed  a  model  as  a  pulpit  orator,  and  his  personal  charm 
and  eloquence  of  manner  forcibly  illustrated  to  my  mind 
by  positive  example  the  wisdom  of  that  negative  injunc 
tion  of  the  Levitical  law,  '  No  man  that  hath  a  blemish  of 
the  seed  of  Aaron  the  priest  shall  come  nigh  to  offer  the 
offerings  of  the  Lord.'  " 


HIS    APPEARANCE    IN    THE    PULPIT.  453 

Few  are  living  who  can  remember  his  appearance 
in  the  pulpit.  Its  chief  characteristic  was  that  of  deep 
ly  felt,  calm,  but  fervent  devotion.  His  prayers,  of 
which  a  large  number  remain  among  his  papers,  in  the 
earliest  part  of  his  ministry,  were  written  and  com 
mitted  to  memory.  They  are  marked  by  simplicity 
and  appropriate  Scripture  language.  They  express 
the  wants,  the  longings,  the  contrition,  the  aspiration, 
and  the  gratitude  of  deeply  experienced  human  hearts. 
His  object  in  writing  his  prayers  seems  to  have  been 
to  make  them  the  true  devotion  of  the  soul,  the  ex 
pression  of  the  intellect  as  well  as  the  heart.  They 
were  uttered  with  a  calm,  unimpassioned  fervor,  which 
contrasted  with  the  animated  and  exhilarating  tone  of 
the  sermon.  The  music  of  the  hymn,  as  it  came  from 
his  "  melodious  voice,"  w^as  felt  in  newer  and  deeper 
meanings  imparted  to  every  sentiment,  opening  to  the 
hearer  a  new  sense  in  the  ear  and  in  the  soul. 

Of  the  sermons  which  have  been  published,  it  is  but 
just  to  regard  them  as  the  compositions  of  early  life, 
called  forth  by  the  ordinary  occasions  of  every  passing 
week.  Had  he  lived,  probably  not  one  of  the  sermons, 
as  now  printed,  would  have  been  given  to  the  press. 
He  steadily  resisted  all  applications  to  print  his  sermons 
during  his  life,  only  two  having  been  yielded  to  the 
requests  of  the  hearers, —  those  on  the  deaths  of  Gov 
ernor  Sullivan  and  Rev.  William  Emerson.  It  was 
his  habit  to  write  more  than  once  on  the  same  subject. 
Sermons  written  in  1804  were  rewritten  in  1808  ;  and 
as  his  mind  expanded,  and  the  same  theme  was  clothed 
with  thoughts  of  greater  depth  and  power,  he  would 
have  subjected  them  to  a  severe  revisal,  or  he  would 
have  enriched  them  with  passages  of  greater  energy  and 


454  LAST  LETTER  TO  HIS  FATHER. 

beauty,  as  his  own  rnind  became  enriched  with  inward 
illumination  or  with  the  acquisitions  of  time. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned,  that  the  cares  of  his 
ministry  increased  in  great  disproportion  to  the  increase 
of  his  strength.  After  his  appointment  to  the  lecture 
ship  at  Cambridge,  he  redoubled  his  exertions,  and 
began,  as  has  been  mentioned,  to  study  another  language. 
This,  with  the  kindred  subjects  to  which  it  led,  inter 
ested  him  so  deeply  as  to  deprive  him  of  sleep  ;  but  to 
his  friends  he  had  never  appeared  more  brilliant,  more 
equal  to  every  duty,  more  animated  and  efficient,  than 
immediately  before  his  last  illness.  The  seizure  was 
as  unexpected  as  it  was  sudden.  The  last  letter  he 
ever  wrote  to  his  father  follows.  It  seems  to  have 
been  elicited  by  anxiety  respecting  the  speculations  of 
one  of  his  family,  and  it  mentions  cursorily  the  un 
usual  lassitude  which  he  felt  at  the  approach  of  warm 

weather. 

"  April  23d,  1812. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  just  seen  a  letter  from , 

the  reading  of  which  has  affected  me  with  the  most  gloomy 
thoughts.  She  is  now  experiencing  something  of  what  I 
have  myself  felt  in  former  years,  —  the  unhappiness  of  see 
ing  her  parent  cast  down  and  troubled  with  the  thought  that 
his  children  are  given  up  '  to  believe  a  lie ' ;  while  Chris 
tianity  is  continually  presented  to  her,  either  in  a  form  which 
she  does  not  understand,  or  which,  as  far  as  she  does  un 
derstand  it,  seems  unworthy  of  the  reception  of  a  rational 
creature,  or  of  the  authority  of  a  holy  and  beneficent  Father. 
From  some  expressions  in  her  letter,  I  began  to  be  afraid 
that  her  faith  in  the  divine  origin  of  the  Gospel  was  shaken, 
and  that,  having  it  continually  presented  to  her  mind  in  the 
revolting  forms  of  Calvinism,  she  was  willing  to  wish,  that, 
if  such  representations  of  Christianity  were  a  just  picture 


LAST  LETTER  TO  HIS  FATHER.  455 

of  what  should  be  a  most  beneficent  religion,  she  would 
be  glad  to  find  it  not  true.  Such  a  result,  though  I  know 
it  is  by  no  means  uncommon,  I  should  most  earnestly  depre 
cate  in  any  one  of  my  relations.  I  hope  she  will  have  more 
strength  of  mind  than  to  fall  into  such  a  state  of  feeling, 
and  that  God  will  enable  her  to  know  the  truth  and  value 
of  the  revelation  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  though  she  may 
find  it  difficult  to  conceive  of  doctrines  which  others  repre 
sent  as  its  essential  principles. 

"I  know,  my  dear  Sir,  that  you  would  see  with  anguish 
her  mind  so  perplexed  by  the  views  of  Calvinistic  Chris 
tianity  as  to  become  indifferent  to  the  news  of  eternal  life 
by  Jesus  Christ,  which.  I  hope,  will  never  cease  to  be  the 
object  of  her  dearest  love  and  gratitude,  and  that  she  will 
go  to  the  Father  by  him  who  has  promised  to  guide  us  into 
all  necessary  truth. 

"  It  is  my  misfortune  to  be  encompassed  with  a  cloud 
of  business,  more,  I  fear,  than  I  can  properly  attend  to,  with 
justice  to  myself  or  my  parishioners.  But  while  my  health 
lasts,  I  dare  not  refuse  any  exertion  by  which  we  may  hope 
to  diffuse  the  blessing  of  the  truth,  or  to  benefit  our  fellow- 
men.  We  are  now  forming  a  society  for  the  improvement 
of  seamen.  Is  it  not  worthy  attention  in  every  respect  ? 
1  am  persuaded  that  no  class  of  persons  are  more  suscep 
tible  of  deep  and  permanent  religious  impressions  than 
those  who  follow  the  sea. 

"  I  do  not  write  often,  because  my  sister  supplies  all  my 
deficiencies  in  that  respect.  If  I  felt  that  my  silence  was 
the  consequence  of  any  diminution  of  interest  or  affection 
for  you  or  yours,  I  should  be  very  unhappy.  My  health 
has  been  very  good  through  the  winter,  but  I  have  found 
myself  uncommonly  sensible  to  the  relaxing  approach  of 
warm  weather.  I  do  not  contemplate  any  journey  before 
the  middle  of  June,  when  I  hope  to  see  you  in  your 
own  home.  Your  dear  son, 

"  J.  S.  B." 


456  ELECTION    WEEK    IN    BOSTON. 

Thus  closed  the  correspondence  between  father  and 
son.  That  frail  health,  which  he  thought  it  his  duty 
not  to  spare,  was  already  deeply  undermined,'  and  the 
words  with  which  he  closed  his  letter  had  a  prophetic 
meaning.  He  did  meet  his  father  before  the  middle  of 
June,  in  that  father's  own  home,  where,  we  may  surely 
believe,  they  were  never  separated  again. 

Soon  after  the  date  of  that  letter,  came  on  the  week, 
—  the  so-called  election  week  in  Boston,  —  so  crowded 
with  business,  with  societies,  with  the  duties  of  the  pres 
ent,  and  the  hopes  of  the  future  ;  when  the  city  throngs 
with  strangers,  and  the  moments  that  are  not  given  to 
exciting  occupations  and  wearying  business  are  ab 
sorbed  by  the  duties  of  hospitality,  the  claims  of  old 
friendships,  and  the  pleasures  of  society.  My  brother 
entered  with  keen  enjoyment  into  all  the  various  in 
terests  of  the  week.  He  was  an  efficient  member,  or  an 
acting  officer,  of  nearly  all  the  societies  of  the  time,  — 
less  numerous,  indeed,  than  at  present,  but  still  enough 
to  absorb  all  his  leisure,  —  and  he  was  engaged  to  preach 
the  sermon  before  the  Society  for  the  Promotion  of 
Christian  Knowledge,  Piety,  and  Charity,  on  May  26th. 
The  election  sermon  was  on  Wednesday,  and  the  Con 
vention,  in  which  he  took  the  warmest  interest,  was  on 
the  Thursday  following.  His  ever-watchful  sister  ob 
served,  that,  while  writing  the  sermon  for  the  above- 
mentioned  society,  he  was  oppressed  by  an  unusual 
languor,  and  the  sermon,  although  selected  for  publica 
tion,  bears  evidence  of  it.  An  extract  from  a  letter  of 
this  date  shows  how  the  labors  of  the  week  had  crowded 
upon  him. 

•  ~7'  Joseph  sat  up  nearly  all   night,  writing  his  sermon  to 


LAST    LABORS.  457 

preach  before  the  society.  He  has  been  so  engaged  with  va 
rious  societies,  and  with  company  staying  in  the  house,  that 
he  has  had  no  time.  After  all,  the  gentlemen  called  for  him 
when  he  was  writing  the  last  page.  He  went  off  without 
his  gown.  In  his  hurry,  he  forgot  to  put  it  on.  I  did  not 
perceive  it  for  some  time,  and  then  sent  it  after  him,  which 
made  me  too  late,"  etc. 

This  forgetting  the  gown  was  no  proof  that  his  memo 
ry  was  failing  ;  but,  it  not  being  the  Sabbath,  he  did 
not  think  of  the  usual  costume  of  the  pulpit. 

Thus  he  went  on,  —  no  pause,  no  rest, —  in  the 
exercise  of  a  benevolence  never  surpassed,  an  ardor 
for  the  good  of  others  rarely  equalled.  There  was 
no  voice  to  warn,  —  there  was  no  hand  to  hold  him 
back.  Others  were  engaged  with  him  ;  but  he,  with  his 
thrilling  voice,  his  ardent  eye,  and  his  intrepid  and 
buoyant  spirit,  urged  them  on.  Some  few  looked  on 
with  trembling  interest,  knowing  the  fatal  consequences 
of  over-exerting  the  sensitive  brain  ;  but  he  had  sur 
vived  many  such  periods  of  severe  labor,  and  why  might 
he  not  pass  uninjured  through  this  one  ? 

The  ruin  came  all  at  once,  with  instantaneous  shock. 
His  early  prayer  was  answered.  There  was  no  inter 
val  between  his  active  career  and  his  shattered  frame. 
At  once,  as  though  stricken  on  sunken  rocks,  in  the 
calm,  blue  sea,  and  amidst  the  cloudless  heaven,  his 
noble  intellect  became  a  wreck.  The  silver  cord  en 
dured  no  loosening  from  its  hold,  —  it  snapped  asunder, 
and  was  gone  ! 

It  should  certainly  be  cause  of  deep  gratitude  that  he 

was  cut  down  at  once,  without  the  slow  decay,  without 

the  loss  of  one  of  those  brilliant  and  fascinating  qualities 

that  so  won  the  love  of  his  contemporaries.      That  he 

39 


458  DEATH    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER. 

did  not  live  to  become  the  sepulchre  of  his  dead  intel 
lect,  demands  the  devout  gratitude  of  all  who  knew  him. 

From  the  records  of  an  interleaved  register,  I  am  able 
to  give  some  account  of  the  employment  of  the  few  days 
before  the  attack  of  his  last,  fatal  illness.  On  the  26th 
of  May,  he  preached  the  sermon  already  mentioned,  and 
attended  a  funeral  in  the  afternoon.  On  the  27th,  elec 
tion  day,  the  funerals  of  two  children  are  recorded.  On 
the  evening  of  the  28th,  after  attending  the  convention 
of  ministers,  he  performed  the  ceremony  of  marriage 
for  two  couples,  apparently  at  his  own  house.  On  Sun 
day,  he  repeated,  in  his  own  pulpit,  with  alterations, 
the  sermon  prepared  for  the  society  already  mentioned, 
dividing  it  into  two  sermons,  for  morning  and  afternoon. 
In  the  evening,  he  received  the  usual  visitors  in  his  study. 
On  Monday  afternoon,  he  met  with  the  association 
of  ministers  ;  and  we  may  easily  suppose  it  was  a  day  of 
more  than  his  usual  exhaustion  and  lassitude,  after  the 
labors  of  the  week  and  of  the  Sabbath.  On  Tuesday 
evening,  June  2d,  he  met  the  committee  of  the  parish 
on  parish  business,  and  afterwards  attended,  and  took 
part,  as  was  always  a  delight  to  him,  with  his  musical 
society.  On  Wednesday,  he  had  so  violent  an  access 
.of  his  disorder  as  completely  to  prostrate  his  physical 
powers,  and  to  deprive  him  of  his  reason,  which  re 
turned  only  at  momentary  intervals  during  the  seven  days 
that  the  struggle  between  life  and  death  continued.  On 
Tuesday,  June  9th,  he  expired,  with  a  serene  and  bliss 
ful  expression  of  countenance,  that  seemed  already  to 
foreshadow  the  higher  world  for  which  the  departing 
spirit  was  winged. 

During  the  whole  of  his  short  illness,  his  bed  was 
surrounded,  and  the  apartments  of  the  house  thronged, 


DEATH    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER.  459 

with  anxious  friends,  lingering,  with  fond  regret,  over 
the  insensible  form  from  which  genius,  but  not  beauty, 
had  departed  ;  listening,  with  breathless  attention,  to 
catch  the  inarticulate  sounds,  in  which  the  more  ex 
perienced  ear  of  the  physician  detected  the  words  of 
prayer.  Friends  and  strangers,  the  merchants,  as  they 
met  on  'change,  and  all,  as  they  paused  from  their  daily 
toil,  whispered  to  each  other  words  of  hope  or  fear  ; 
and  a  public  and  fearful  calamity  seemed  to  hang  over 
the  town. 

It  is  delightful  to  recollect  that  the  last  rational  ex 
ercise  of  his  mind,  the  last  conscious  act  of  his  life, 
was  joining  in  the  devotional  music  of  the  choir  of  his 
church.  It  was  no  doubt  the  very  moment  in  which  he 
would  wish  to  die,  as  he  has  said,  in  one  of  his  earliest 
letters,  u  in  the  swelling  notes  of  celestial  praise,  he 
could  wish  to  dissolve  into  sound."  In  the  music  in 
which  he  delighted,  it  seemed,  indeed,  as  though  de 
parted  spirits  came  to  announce  and  to  bear  testimony 
to  a  future  union.  The  close  of  his  life,  so  in  unison 
with  its  whole  aim,  has  added  a  sweetness  to  his  memo 
ry  that  embalms  it  for  ever. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

DOMESTIC  EVENTS  RELATING  TO  DR.  BUCKMINSTER.  —  JOUR 
NEY  TO  CONNECTICUT. CHEERFULNESS  AND  UNINTER 
RUPTED  HEALTH  FOR  FOUR  YEARS.  HIS  LAST  ILLNESS, 

AND       DEATH.  INTERMENT.  MONUMENT.  FUNERAL 

SERVICES    AT    PORTSMOUTH   AND    BOSTON. REINTERMENT 

AND    MONUMENT    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER. 

As  we  draw  towards  the  close  of  the  life  of 
Dr.  Buckminster,  I  would  fain  record  that  the 
cheerfulness  and  apparent  health  which  he  enjoyed  in 
1808,  and  the  three  succeeding  years,  had  suffered  no 
interruption.  He  had  been,  through  life,  a  man  of  much 
domestic  grief.  The  sensibility  of  his  heart  had  been 
often  wrung  by  the  loss  of  children  at  the  age  when  they 
are  the  most  lovely  and  attractive,  —  when  the  opening 
faculties  awaken  the  most  tender  interest  in  the  parent, 
and  the  sorrow  occasioned  by  their  loss  is  as  acu  e, 
though  not  perhaps  as  enduring,  as  when  they  die  at  a 
later  age.  At  the  loss  of  his  second  wife,  in  1805, 
whom  he  loved  with  a  passion  fond  almost  to  idolatry, 
those  who  witnessed  the  agony  of  his  grief  trembled, 
lest  his  reason  or  his  life  should  become  the  sacrifice  to 
an  attachment  to  which  the  energy  of  his  soul  and  the 
sensibility  of  his  heart  were  wholly  given. 

In  1808,  and   in   the  three  succeeding  years,  he  had 
recovered  from  the  desolating  effect  of  this  and  other 


VISIT    TO    NEW    HAVEN.  461. 

losses.  His  daughter  remarks,  in  a  letter  found  in  the 
preceding  pages,  that  she  had  never  known  him  in  bet 
ter  health  and  spirits.  His  daughters  were  now  old 
enough  to  be  to  their  father,  not  only  domestic  assist 
ants,  but  companions  and  friends  ;  and  the  more  youth 
ful  society  that  was  drawn  to  the  parsonage,  by  finding 
companions  of  their  own  age  there,  was  a  great  acces 
sion  of  pleasure  and  of  cheerful  conversation  to  Dr. 
Buckminster  himself.  My  brother,  also,  when  he  came 
from  Boston  to  visit  his  family,  was  usually  accompa 
nied  by  one  of  his  young  friends,  which  added  much  to 
the  cheerfulness  of  the  party  assembled  in  what  was 
called,  par  eminence,  "  the  little  parlour." 

In  the  summer  of  1808,  he  allowed  himself  the  rec 
reation  of  a  journey  to  the  beloved  scenes  of  his  youth. 
As  he  travelled  with  his  own  horse  and  chaise,  arid  a 
daughter  for  a  companion,  it  was  a  journey  of  formi 
dable  length.  He  visited  New  Haven,  at  the  season 
of  Commencement,  and  enjoyed,  for  the  last  time,  the 
renewal  of  old  associations,  and  the  delightful  remi 
niscences  of  college  days.  It  was  true  that  younger 
classes  had  risen  up  "which  knew  not  Joseph,"  yet  it 
was  a  singular  and  fortunate  circumstance,  that  a  large 
number  of  the  class  of  1770  had,  like  him,  gone  up  to 
visit  their  JUma,  Mater,  and  others  of  the  classes  to 
whom  he  had  been  tutor,  so  that  the  renewal  of  old  as 
sociations  was  as  complete  and  delightful  as  possible. 

In  1809,  he  was  twice  invited  to  preach  occasional 
sermons,  —  at  the  ordination  of  Rev.  Mr.  Thurston,  at 
Manchester,  N.  H.,  and  before  the  Female  Charitable 
Society  of  Newburyport.  Both  of  the  sermons  were 
requested  for  the  press,  and  they  are  among  the  most 
vigorous  and  interesting  of  his  productions. 
39* 


462  FAMILY    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER. 

It  was  a  peculiar  cause  of  anxiety  to  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster,  that  the  solitary  situation  of  his  son,  (obliged  to 
make  the  parsonage-house  his  residence,)  and  his  singular 
liability  to  illness,  compelled  the  necessity  of  dividing 
his  family,  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  society  of  his  eldest 
daughter.  The  second  was,  unfortunately,  at  that  time, 
too  much  of  an  invalid  to  be  much  from  under  the  pa 
rental  roof,  and  the  others  were  all  too  young  to  leave 
home,  except  under  the  care  of  the  elder  sisters.  But, 
as  their  brother's  house  was  a  pleasant  residence,  and 
Boston  presented  so  much  rarer  advantages  of  education 
for  the  younger  children,  one  or  two  were  constantly 
with  their  brother,  and  away  from  home.  To  a  man 
so  tender  in  his  domestic  affections,  these  blanks  in  the 
family  circle  were  peculiarly  painful. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  Dr.  Buckminster's  ap 
pearance  was  that  of  a  person  in  the  full  vigor  of  life. 
In  1808,  he  was  fifty-seven  years  old.  His  remarkably 
striking  form  was  unbent  and  unworn.  The  raven  black 
of  his  hair  was  just  beginning  to  be  streaked  with  gray, 
and  the  temples  were  fringed  with  silver.  He  was 
often,  at  this  period  of  his  life,  while  he  was  a  widower, 
solicited  to  join  social  parties,  where  his  daughters  were 
invited,  and  his  presence,  while  it  checked  all  undue 
mirth,  was  thought  to  add  much  to  the  cheerfulness  of 
the  party.  But  the  young  were  not  those  with  whom  he 
could  the  most  readily  find  sympathy,  and,  while  his 
house  was  filled  with  them,  he  often,  no  doubt,  felt 
doubly  alone. 

His  salary  had  never  been  more  than  a  very  moderate 
support  for  his  large  family  ;  money,  however,  for  any 
purposes  but  those  of  beneficence,  and  for  the  education 
of  his  children,  had  little  value  in  his  eyes.  The  ab- 


AN    INTERVAL    OF    HAPPINESS.  463 

sence  of  all  worldliness  is  perhaps  a  defect,  for  children 
should  be  taught  the  value  of  money  sufficiently  to  de 
sire  to  avoid  the  absolute  want  of  it.  After  his  marriage, 
in  the  summer  of  1810,  he  left  the  parsonage-house  and 
removed  to  a  more  commodious  dwelling,  the  property 
of  his  wife.  His  marriage  placed  him  beyond  all  anx 
iety  with  regard  to  pecuniary  concerns.  It  is  due  to 
his  delicate  sense  of  justice  to  state,  that  the  property 
which  came  into  his  possession  by  his  last  marriage 
was  returned  immediately  by  bequest.  His  will,  exe 
cuted  the  day  after  the  solemnization  of  his  marriage,  is 
in  these  words  :  — 

"  Secondly.  To  my  beloved  wife  Abigail,  I  return,  by 
bequest,  all  that  estate,  real  and  personal,  or  mixed,  of 
which  she  was  possessed  (when  she  became  my  wife)  by 
the  will  of  her  late  husband,  Colonel  Eliphalet  Ladd  ;  to  be 
not  only  for  her  use  during  her  life,  but  to  be  at  her  dispos 
al,  and  to  her  heirs  and  assigns  for  ever,  as  completely  as 
if  no  connection  had  taken  place  between  us  ;  and  as  to 
the  little  property  which  I  possess,  separate  from  that  which 
fell  into'my  hands  through  her  courtesy  and  confidence,  it  is 
my  will,  that  my  said  beloved  wife  should  have  the  income 
of  it  during  her  continuing  my  widow,  if  she  chooses  to  re 
tain  it." 

He  had  now  enjoyed  uninterrupted  health  and  spirits 
for  more  than  four  years.  He  seemed  to  have  taken 
a  new  lease  of  life,  and  his  friends  saw  no  reason  why 
he  might  not  attain  to  the  age  of  the  most  long-lived  of 
his  ancestors  ;  but,  as  was  mentioned  in  the  last  chap 
ter,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1811,  those  of  his  family 
who  were  most  intimate  with  the  peculiarities  of  his  con 
stitution,  saw,  with  anguish,  that  a  nameless  depression, 
an  apparently  causeless  anxiety,  was  beginning  to  gather 


464 


RECURRENCE    OF    DEPRESSION. 


in  dark  clouds  over  his  mind.  Physical  disease,  which 
baffled  the  sagacity  of  science,  no  doubt  affected  him  ; 
but  it  assumed  the  outward  form  of  mental  depression, 
nervous  distress,  and  agitation.  In  May,  1812,  he  be 
came  much  more  ill,  and  change  of  scene  amid  the  health 
ful  influences  of  nature  was  proposed,  and  a  journey  to 
the  western  part  of  New  York  was  resolved  upon,  which 
was  to  begin  early  in  June. 

At  this  time  his  illness  did  not  take  the  usual  form  of 
morbid  and  exaggerated  conscientiousness  ;  it  was  a  gen 
eral  distrust  of  himself,  his  power  of  sustaining  his  min 
istry,  and  a  fear  lest  he  should  be  the  cause  of  unhap pi- 
ness  to  others.  He  continued  to  perform  the  public 
services  of  his  church  on  the  Sabbath,  and  to  receive 
his  friends,  and  those  who  were  unacquainted  with  his 
malady  perceived  no  cause  for  uneasiness. 

The  last  Sabbath  in  May,  he  felt  a  strong  persuasion 
that  he  should  never  again  address  his  people.  As  his 
journey  was  to  be  commenced  on  Tuesday,  and  the  Sab 
bath  was  the  last  day  of  the  month,  the  communion  was 
celebrated  on  that  day,  that  he  might  enjoy  once  more 
with  his  beloved  church  that  last  act  of  affection  and 
devotion  to  his  Divine  Master.  His  services  were  un 
usually  fervent  and  pathetic,  and  he  seemed  to  feel  a  pro 
phetic  foreboding  that  it  was  the  last  time  his  voice  would 
ever  be  heard  from  that  table  of  his  Lord.  He  did  not 
go  out  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  succeeding  night  was  one 
of  distress  and  agitation.  His  daughter  and  his  friend, 
Rev.  Mr.  Parker,  watched  with  him  through  the  night. 
It  was  spent  by  him  in  fervent  prayers,  interrupted  at  in 
tervals  by  bursts  of  uncontrollable  emotion.  It  was  the 
night  preceding  the  first  of  June,  and  the  unusual  warmth 
of  the  season  allowed  all  the  windows  to  be  open.  The 


LAST    JOURNEY.  465 

garden  beneath  the  windows,  hushed  in  the  sweet  re 
pose  of  moonlight,  was  all  white  with  the  full  blossom  of 
fruit  trees,  whose  fragrance  ascended  upon  the  night- 
breeze  to  the  watchers  by  that  beloved  but  afflicted  spirit. 
How  striking  was  the  contrast  between  the  joyful  repose 
of  nature  and  the  jarring  discords  of  the  human  soul  ; 
but  never,  during  any  of  the  wild  conflicts  of  emotion, 
did  he  lose  for  a  moment  the  gentle  sweetness  of  his 
manners,  or  a  tender  devotion  to  the  comfort  of  others. 
Arrangements  had  been  made  for  his  departure  on  a 
journey  the  next  morning  as  far  as  the  Saratoga  Springs  ; 
and,  upon  his  return,  he  would  visit  his  son  and  daughter 
in  Boston.  He  was  to  be  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  a 
gentleman  of  middle  age,  who  was  a  member  of  his  church, 
also  by  a  young  man,  at  that"  time  a  student  of  divinity. 
His  young  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Parker,  had  so  endeared 
himself  to  Dr.  Buckminster  by  the  warmth  of  his  sym 
pathy,  that  the  sufferer  could  not  bear  to  part  with  him  ; 
and  the  latter  was  persuaded  to  accompany  him  a  part  of 
the  way  on  his  journey.  The  prayer  that  he  offered  in 
his  family  the  morning  of  his  departure  was  so  touching 
in  its  pathetic  earnestness,  that  it  melted  his  young  chil 
dren  to  tears.  Observing  them  weeping,  he  said,  with 
the  most  cheerful  smile,  as  he  stepped  into  the  carriage, 
"  Be  not  anxious,  — all  will  be  well  !  "  It  was  an  in 
expressible  consolation  to  them,  thus  orphaned  in  their 
youth,  to  remember  that  the  last  kind  words  that  fell 
from  his  lips  were  those  of  encouragement  and  peace. 

The  following  notices  of  the  remaining  days  of  Dr. 
Buckminster's  life  are  derived  from  the  journal  sent  to 
his  daughter  by  the  young  student  who  accompanied 
him  on  his  journey.  The  party  left  Portsmouth  on  the 


466  LAST  JOURNEY  AND  ILLNESS. 

first  or  second  day  of  June.  The  season  was  more  en 
chanting  than  can  be  imagined  ;  the  air  was  loaded  with 
the  fragrance  of  blossoming  trees  ;  the  tender  grass  was 
of  an  emerald  green  ;  the  temperature  balmy  as  the  air 
of  Paradise  ;  and  a  spirit  of  beauty  seemed  to  move  over 
the  earth  to  cure  all  sadness  but  despair. 

"  June  2d.  After  proceeding  a  short  distance,  the  con 
versation  turned  upon  the  goodness  of  God,  as  displayed  in 
the  beauty  of  nature.  Mr.  Parker  observed,  that '  all  nature 
appeared  to  smile  in  praise  of  the  Creator.'  '  Yes,'  replied 
Dr.  Buckminster,  and  tears  filled  his  eyes,  i  we  are  travelling 
amidst  the  loveliest  works  of  God.'  Mr.  Parker  said  it  was 
a  wise  and  benevolent  dispensation  of  Heaven,  that  the  ac- 
ceptableness  of  our  actions  did  not  depend  on  a  high  excita 
tion  of  the  affections  and  feelings ;  but  a  course  of  devout 
action  might  be  continued  when  the  ardor  of  feeling  that 
prompted  it  had  subsided  ;  for  such  was  the  limitation  of  our 
nature,  that  we  could  neither  long  endure  keen  elevation  nor 
always  possess  uniform  cheerful  assurance  ;  and  if  the  ar 
dor  of  feeling  were  requisite  to  the  right  performance  of  ac 
tions,  we  should  not  be  able,  when  it  was  in  exercise,  to  do 
properly  the  business  of  life.  But,  as  we  are  constituted, 
having  begun  a  series  of  good  actions  from  right  principle, 
we  may  continue  them  from  habit,  after  the  vividness  of 
emotion  has  subsided.  Dr.  Buckminster  smiled  ;  1 1  think,' 
he  said,  '  that  you  have  given  us  a  true  and  philosophical 
statement  of  the  subject.' 

"  In  the  afternoon,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  Hop- 
kinsian  system.  The  Dr.  asked  me  if  I  had  read  a  certain 
treatise  upon  the  points  of  difference  between  Hopkins  and 
Calvin,  adding,  that  he  had  lately  been  reading  it.  Upon  my 
observing  that  the  difference  between  Hopkinsians  and  rigid 
Calvinists  appeared  to  be  merely  nominal,  he  replied,  — 
1  There  is  a  difference.  The  former  hold,  that,  if  it  were 


LAST    JOURNEY   AND    ILLNESS.  467 

for  the  glory  of  God,  a  soul  must  be  willing  to  be  eternally 
miserable  ;  which  implies,  that  the  believer  must  be  willing 
to  be  in  a  state  that  would  for  ever  deprive  him  of  the  pres 
ence  of  God,  and  where  his  name  was  blasphemed.  Hop- 
kinsians  also  ascribe  the  origin  of  evil  to  God,  —  an  assertion 
that  Calvinists  reject.' 

"  The  next  day,  speaking  of  the  origin  of  writing,  I  ob 
served  that  the  law  of  the  ten  commandments  was  said  to  be 
written  by  the  finger  of  God.  The  Dr.  answered,  that 
4  this,  like  many  other  passages  of  the  Scriptures,  must  be 
taken  figuratively  ;  they  were  probably  written  by  Moses.' 

"  His  friend,  Mr.  Parker,  quitted  the  party  at  Newburyport 
to  return  to  Portsmouth.  In  attempting  to  give  him  a  message 
for  his  children,  Dr.  Buckminster's  emotion  was  so  great  that 
he  desisted  from  the  attempt.  After  Mr.  Parker  left  him, 
his  dejection  increased,  and  his  mind  seemed  clouded  with  a 
settled  gloom.  Passing  through  Chelmsford,  he  saw  some 
children  at  play  by  the  school-house,  and  burst  into  involun 
tary  tears.  Upon  inquiring  the  cause  of  this  sudden  expres 
sion  of  sensibility,  he  said,  '  they  brought  to  his  mind  his 
own  children,  the  sorrow  they  were  destined  to  suffer,  and 
their  inability,  from  their  youth  and  retired  education,  to 
contend  with  the  difficulties  of  life.'  After  his  emotion  had 
subsided,  he  conversed  upon  the  scenes  of  his  early  life, 
of  his  collegiate  pursuits,  and  the  advantages  of  the  exact 
sciences  in  strengthening  the  mind,  and  inducing  habits  of 
correct  reasoning." 

At  Newburyport,  he  had  met  his  brother  and  sister, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tappan,  returning  from  Boston.  He  ex 
pressed  to  his  sister,  more  fully  than  he  had  to  his  chil 
dren,  his  entire  conviction  that  the  journey  would  be 
of  no  avail  ;  he  had  undertaken  it  at  the  desire  of 
friends,  and  would  go  on,  but  he  felt  a  firm  persuasion 
in  his  own  mind  that  he  never  should  return  to  Ports 
mouth. 


468  LAST  JOURNEY  AND  ILLNESS. 

In  that  distressing  night  previous  to  his  leaving  home, 
the  physician  had  thought  proper  to  take  a  quantity  of 
blood  from  the  arm.  On  the  fourth  day  of  the  journey, 
the  wounded  vein  began  to  inflame,  and  the  whole  arm, 
probably  irritated  by  travelling,  swelled,  and  became  ex 
tremely  painful. 

"  June  5/.A.  At  Townsend,  the  patient  walked  some  dis 
tance  to  observe  a  lovely  and  picturesque  view.  The  sun 
was  just  setting,  and  the  whole  air  was  perfumed  with 
blossoms.  He  was  so  much  exhilarated  with  this  walk,  that 
he  forgot  the  fatigues  of  the  ride,  and  the  evening  was  spent 
cheerfully.  The  ride  from  Townsend  to  Keene,  through  an 
undulating  and  pleasing  country,  exhilarated  his  spirits,  and, 
notwithstanding  the  painful  state  of  his  arm,  he  enjoyed  ev 
ery  incident  of  the  journey.  At  Jaffrey,  this  day,  June  5th, 
he  wrote  the  last  letter  he  ever  penned  to  his  children. 
[In  consequence  of  the  state  of  his  arm,  the  writing  is  al 
most  illegible.] 

"  June  6th.  At  Keene,  the  Dr.  entered  into  an  animated  po 
litical  discussion  with  a  Democrat,  who  asserted  that  Judge 
Marshall  had,  in  a  certain  case,  exercised  powers  that  were 
unconstitutional.  The  Dr.  confined  himself  to  a  defence  of 
Judge  Marshall,  and  vindicated  the  powers  of  the  judiciary, 
as  the  great  bulwark  of  the  Constitution,  with  great  energy, 
power,  and  perspicuity  of  thought.  At  Walpole,  where  we 
dined,  he  met  one  who  had  been  his  pupil  when  he  was  tu 
tor  at  Yale  College.  This  meeting  agitated  him  greatly, 
and  his  nervous  spasms  returned  with  violence. 

"  His  arm  was  now  swelled  to  an  alarming  degree  ;  he 
could  no,  longer  ascend  nor  descend  the  steps  of  the  car 
riage  without  assistance.  The  ride,  however,  from  Walpole 
to  Putney,  exhilarated  his  spirits,  and  he  said,  in  reference  to 
the  varying  and  undulating  character  of  the  ground,  with 
the  shadows  flitting  over  it,  that  it  bore  a  striking  resem- 


LAST  JOURNEY  AND  ILLNESS.  469 

blance  to  the  light  and  shade,  the  changing  color,  of  our 
life.  At  Putney,  there  was  a  Justice's  cause  being  argued 
at  the  inn  where  we  rested,  in  which  Dr.  Buckminster  took 
a  strong  interest,  and  attended  to  the  close  of  the  sitting. 

"  June  1th.  The  next  day  being  the  Sabbath,  it  was  spent 
in  the  beautiful  little  village  of  Putney.  Our  beloved  pa 
tient  was  calm,  but  extremely  dejected.  He  was  able,  how 
ever,  to  read  the  Scriptures,  and  pray  in  the  family ;  after 
which,  the  rest  of  the  party  attended  church.  In  the  after 
noon,  one  of  the  party  stating  some  objections  to  some  passa 
ges  of  Scripture,  he  smiled,  and  observed,  mildly,  that  'the 
gentleman  was  inclining  to  Socinianism.'  During  the  night, 
he  was  extremely  ill,  and  his  arm  so  much  swelled  that  he 
could  not  move  it  without  assistance. 

"  On  Monday,  June  8th,  two  physicians  were  called  in  at 
Brattleborough,  but  they  prescribed  only  for  the  swelled 
arm.  Notwithstanding  the  illness  of  their  patient,  the  party 
proceeded  that  day  to  Whitney's  in  Marlborough.  Here, 
while  his  wife  took  some  repose,  he  sat  by  the  window  with 
a  book  in  his  hand ;  he  spent  the  afternoon  in  this  position, 
in  prayer,  and  repeating  parts  of  the  Psalms.  Before  he 
retired,  he  requested  one  of  the  party  to  pray,  with  as  much 
humility  and  resignation  as  possible." 

Since  the  night  at  Putney,  Dr.  Buckminster  seems 
to  have  been  aware  of  his  approaching  dissolution,  al 
though,  from  the  fear  of  distressing  his  wife  and  retard 
ing  the  journey  of  his  friends,  he  consented  to  go  on, 
without  expressing  his  own  convictions  of  his  extreme 
illness.  His  nights  were  usually  without  sleep,  and  spent 
in  prayer. 

"  Tuesday,  June  9th.     We  left  Whitney's,  and  rode   to 
Hamilton's  tavern  to  breakfast.     Here  our  patient  immedi- 
40 


470  LAST  JOURNEY  AND  ILLNESS. 

ately  lay  down  with  extreme  pain  in  the  shoulder  and 
breast ;  afterwards,  we  continued  the  journey  to  Berchard's 
inn,  to  dine.  Here  a  young  lady,  the  daughter  of  the  host, 
was  wholly  devoted  to  his  comfort.  Grateful  for  every 
kindness,  he  took  leave  of  her  with  a  tenderness  and  solem 
nity  that  affected  every  one.  This  afternoon,  we  observed 
a  striking  change  in  his  appearance  ;  although  he  continued 
to  manifest  the  sweetest  composure  and  an  angelic  patience, 
and  not  a  complaint  escaped  him,  yet  his  countenance  was 
pale  and  sunken.  He  spoke  little,  but  smiled  frequently. 
He  seemed  to  speak  with  effort,  and  the  natural  tone  of  his 
voice  was  gone. 

"  In  the  afternoon,  we  passed  a  little  road-side  cottage, 
where  we  stopped  a  moment,  and  asked  for  a  glass  of  water 
from  a  woman,  who  sat  by  the  loom,  weaving.  She  was 
one  of  those  tender  and  feeling  natures  that  are  habitually 
prompted  to  deeds  of  mercy  and  kindness  by  their  own 
hearts.  Observing  the  pale  and  suffering  countenance  with 
in  the  carriage,  as  soon  as  it  had  passed  she  felt  constrained 
to  follow  it.  She  felt  there  was  death  in  the  carriage,  and 
she  could  not  pursue  her  labors  at  the  loom.  Leaving  her 
work,  she  followed  on  to  the  lonely  and  sequestered  inn 
where  the  travellers  had  stopped  for  the  night,  and,  by 
her  presence  of  mind,  her  disinterested  services,  her  calm 
and  trusting  piety,  she  proved  an  infinite  comfort  to  the 
afflicted  wife  of  the  suffering  patient.  In  this  lonely  inn, 
we  were  visited  by  a  tremendous  storm.  During  this  con 
flict  of  the  elements,  Dr.  Buckminster  was  extremely  agitat 
ed.  He  sat  supported  in  a  chair,  his  voice  feeble  and  hol 
low,  and  uttered  with  touching  pathos  prayers  for  his  friends 
and  himself,  humble  confessions  and  petitions  for  the  mercy 
of  God.  From  this  time  his  gloom  wholly  subsided.  He 
was  perfectly  aware  that  his  death  was  near.  He  remained 
perfectly  tranquil,  most  of  the  time  silent,  but  uttering  oc 
casionally  whispered  expressions  of  submission,  faith,  and 
hope  in  the  mercy  of  God." 


THE    FATHER    AND    THE    SON.  471 

[Some  hours  later,  on  the  same  evening,  a  thunder 
storm  was  felt  with  terrific  violence  in  Boston.  Pros 
trate  with  fever  of  the  brain,  in  the  fierce  contention  of 
life  with  death,  lay  the  beloved  son  upon  a  couch  oppo 
site  the  windows,  where  the  vivid  flashes  of  lightning 
illuminated  the  whole  room,  and  the  sunken  and  pallid 
countenance,  around  which,  in  still,  repressed  agony, 
the  friends  were  gathered.  For  many  hours,  no  ray  of 
reason  had  illumined  those  closed  eyes  ;  but  now,  when 
one  of  his  sisters  arrived  from  Portsmouth,  he  opened 
his  eyes,  looked  upon  her,  and  smiled  :  this  smile,  al 
ways  so  enchanting,  was  given  to  her  as  a  treasure  for 
the  memory  of  after  life. 

The  thunder-storm  passed  away,  the  clouds  rolled 
off,  and  the  tranquil  stars  looked  down  into  that  cham 
ber.  There,  too,  the  anguish  and  the  agony  had  passed 
away,  and  that  pale  countenance  lay  in  the  inexpressibly 
sweet  repose  of  death.] 

The  night  of  the  storm  was  passed  by  the  little  afflict 
ed  company  of  travellers,  with  their  dying  friend,  in 
the  retired  and  solitary  inn  of  the  village  of  Reedsbor- 
ough.  He  knew  that  he  was  dying,  but  his  companions 
were  not  aware  of  his  extreme  illness,  for  the  physician, 
who  dwelt  at  the  distance  of  nine  miles,  was  not  sent 
for  that  evening.  Indeed,  they  all  retired  to  rest,  and 
Mrs.  Buckminster,  having  been  much  fatigued  and  de 
prived  of  sleep,  was  persuaded  by  her  husband  to  retire 
for  the  night  to  another  room.  Mr.  Bowles,  the  eldest 
of  the  gentlemen,  was  accommodated  with  a  bed  in  the 
same  room  with  their  patient.  The  night  was  spent 
by  him  in  prayer,  but,  with  his  habitual  regard  to  the 
feelings  of  others,  he  repeatedly  said  to  Mr.  Bowles,  that 
he  hoped  he  did  not  speak  so  loud  as  to  disturb  his 


472  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  DEATH. 

repose.  The  gentleman,  who  had  been  in  early  life  a 
sea-captain,  at  length  answered,  that  "he  could  remain 
undisturbed  through  the  roughest  weather,  and  had  often 
slept  under  his  preaching  ;  but  ah,  Sir,"  he  added,  "  I 
cannot  sleep  under  such  prayers  as  these  !  " 

When  his  wife  entered  his  chamber  the  next  morning, 
he  said  to  her,  with  perfect  composure,  "  My  son  Joseph 
is  dead."  Mrs.  Buckminster,  supposing  that  he  had 
slept  and  dreamed  that  his  son  was  dead,  although  no 
news  of  his  illness  had  reached  him,  assured  him  that 
it  was  a  dream.  "  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  not  slept 
nor  dreamed  ;  he  is  dead  !  "  This  incident  is  related 
as  received  from  the  lips  of  her  to  whom  the  words  were 
spoken,  and  there  can  be  no  shadow  of  doubt  of  their 
truth. 

Although  Dr,  Buckminster  proposed  to  rise  and  pro 
ceed  to  Bennington,  the  smallest  effort  to  move  pro 
duced  faintness,  and  his  wife,  now  much  alarmed,  sent 
immediately  for  the  nearest  physician.  He  dwelt  at 
the  distance  of  nine  miles,  and  did  not  arrive  till  ten 
o'clock. 

In  the  mean  time,  although  his  countenance  bore  all 
the  appearance  of  death,  it  was  serene  and  tranquil. 
All  nervous  distress  and  all  anxiety  had  passed  away, 
and,  in  those  last  hours  of  his  life,  he  enjoyed  the  full 
assurance  of  the  goodness  and  loving  kindness  of  his 
Saviour.  But  there  was  no  exultation,  no  rapturous  ex 
pressions  of  the  near  approach  of  heaven.  His  princi 
pal  anxiety  was  to  soothe  and  comfort  his  wife,  who  had 
now  become  fearfully  conscious  that  his  last  moment 
was  approaching. 

The  following  paragraph  is  from  the  journal  of  his 
young  travelling  companion  :  — 


DEATH    OF    DR.  BUCKMINSTER.  473 

"  The  physician,  who  had  been  sent  for  previously,  now 
entered  the  room.  Before  his  arrival,  Dr.  Buckminster's 
symptoms  had  become  extremely  alarming,  and  his  friends 
perceived  with  anguish  that  his  death  was  fast  approaching. 
He  fixed  his  languid  eyes  upon  the  physician,  and  said, 
with  some  earnestness,  '  I  am  in  the  hands  of  God  ;  all 
means  are  under  his  control,  and  must  depend  on  his  bless 
ing.  I  have  no  expectation  that  anything  can  be  done  for 
me,  but,  for  the  sake  of  these  friends,  I  will  submit  to  your 
prescriptions.'  The  doctor  proceeded  to  prepare  some 
medicine,  and  said,  '  if  it  did  not  relieve  him,  tbe  event 
would  be  fatal.'  '  Certainly,'  said  Dr.  Buckminster,  '  that 
must  follow.'  Upon  a  stranger  entering  the  room,  he  asked, 
eagerly,  if  it  was  a  messenger  from  Boston,  expecting,  no 
doubt,  to  hear  his  son's  death  confirmed.  Some  one  present 
asked  him  if  he  were  resigned.  He  answered,  'I  desire  to 
be  still,  and  await  the  will  of  God.'  After  a  short  time, 
one  of  his  companions  asked,  '  if  he  had  anything  to  im 
part  to  his  absent  family.'  Waiting  some  moments,  he  at 
tempted  to  speak,  but,  his  voice  failing,  he  fervently  pressed 
the  hand  of  the  person,  and,  lifting  his  eyes,  he  seemed  to 
be  in  silent  prayer  for  many  moments,  when  his  eyes  closed, 
and  he  gently  breathed  away  his  departing  soul." 

It  was  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  after  the  death  of 
the  son,  that  his  father  followed  him  to  that  eternal  union 
which  they  both  so  fervently  expected  to  enjoy. 

Dr.  Buckminster  was  interred  at  Bennington,  with 
appropriate  funeral  solemnities.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Marsh, 
of  that  place,  preached,  upon  the  occasion,  from  the 
words,  u  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless  ;  I  will  come 
unto  you." 

On  Friday,  the  19th  of  June,  his  bereaved  church 
and  congregation,  in  Portsmouth,  assembled  to  pay  a 
tribute  of  respect  to  his  memory.  The  pulpit  and  the 
40* 


474     FUNERAL    SERVICES    AT    PORTSMOUTH    AND    BOSTON. 

galleries  were  hung  with  black,  and  an  impressive  dis 
course  was  pronounced  by  Mr.  Parker,  of  the  South 
Church,  from  Acts  xx.  24,  —  "  But  none  of  these 
move  me,"  &c.  A  writer  of  the  time  remarks,  that 
u  the  largest  and  most  respectable  audience  that  had 
ever  been  seen  in  that  ancient  town  was  present." 

The  stone  that  was  placed  over  the  grave  of  Dr. 
Buckminster,  in  Bennington,  Vermont,  bears  the  follow 
ing  inscription,  written,  except  the  poetry,  by  his  friend 
and  brother  in  the  ministry,  Rev.  D.  Dana,  D.  D.,  of 
Newburyport  :  — 

"  In  memory  of  Rev.  Joseph  Buckminster,  D.  D.,  pastor 
of  a  church  in  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  who  died  suddenly  in 
this  vicinity,  while  on  a  journey  for  his  health,  June  10th, 
1812,  aged  61. 

"  He  was  a  fervent  and  devoted  Christian,  an  eloquent 
and  evangelical  preacher,  a  faithful  and  indefatigable  pastor, 
an  affectionate  son,  brother,  husband,  father,  and  friend. 
His  bereaved  people  have  erected  this  memorial  of  his  emi 
nent  worth  and  of  their  tender  and  respectful  grief. 

"  O  ever  honored,  ever  dear,  adieu  ! 

How  many  tender  names  are  lost  in  you  ! 
Keep  safe,  O  tomb,  thy  precious,  sacred  trust, 
Till  life  divine  awake  this  sleeping  dust !  " 


At  the  funeral  service  in  Brattle  Street  Church,  on 
the  afternoon  of  June  12th,  in  commemoration  of  the 
death  of  their  pastor,  Rev.  Joseph  Stevens  Buckmin 
ster,  Dr.  Kirkland,  President  of  Harvard  College, 
preached  from  Job  xvi.  19,  —  "Thou  destroyest  the 
hope  of  man."  The  sermon  was  a  touching  and  ap 
propriate  tribute  to  the  memory  of  his  friend.  Dr. 


COMMEMORATIVE    NOTICES    OF    MR.    BUCKMINSTER.      475 

Kirkland  was  earnestly  requested  to  give  a  copy  for  the 
press,  but  the  urgent  duties  of  his  office  prevented  him 
from  complying  with  the  wishes  of  the  parish  and  the 
friends  of  the  departed.  Many  tributes  to  his  memory 
appeared  in  the  public  journals  of  the  day,  and  in  the 
sermons  of  his  brothers  in  the  ministry.  mongA  others 
were  two  very  beautiful  notices  of  his  character,  writ 
ten  with  the  warmth  of  friendship,  and  the  exact  deline 
ation  of  truth,  which  appeared  in  two  successive  num 
bers  of  the  General  Repository,  from  the  pen  of  its 
editor,  Mr.  Andrews  Norton.  They  have  been  in 
cluded  in  the  edition  of  Buckminster's  Works  of  1839, 
and  would  also  have  enriched  the  pages  of  this  volume, 
had  it  not  swelled  far  beyond  its  original  intention. 

Twelve  years  after  his  death,  the  Rev.  John  Gorham 
Palfrey,  then  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street  Church,  pro 
nounced  the  following  beautiful  eulogy  upon  his  memory. 
After  speaking  of  former  pastors  of  the  church,  he 
says,  — 

"  Him  I  have  heard  and  known  ;  and  who,  that  has  heard 
him,  has  not  thenceforth  found  religion  invested  in  his  mind 
with  a  beauty  unknown  before  ?  He  was,  in  truth,  a  singu 
larly  gifted  man  ;  of  a  judgment  discriminating,  independ 
ent,  and  exact ;  of  a  fancy  profuse  of  images  of  the  grand 
and  lovely  ;  of  a  various  and  accurate  learning ;  of  a  sen 
sibility  keenly  alive  to  the  importance  of  truth,  and  to  the 
dangers  and  obligations  of  men  ;  of  a  pure  and  fervid  zeal ; 
of  a  truly  heavenly  spirit.  He  was  formed  to  interest  men 
in  religion,  —  to  win  them  and  attach  them  to  it.  No  one 
could  look  on  his  intellectual  beauty,  —  no  one  could  hear 
the  softest  tone  of  his  voice,  —  without  loving  the  spirit  that 
dwelt  in  the  expression  of  bothu  He  spoke  to  solemnize 


476       COMMEMORATIVE    NOTICES    OF    MR.    BUCKMINSTER. 

the  levity  of  the  young,  and  inform  the  wisdom  of  age  ; 
to  shake  the  sinner's  purpose,  and  to  bind  up,  in  the  softest 
balm  of  consolation,  the  wounds  of  the  Christian  heart. 
Those  of  us  who  have  heard  him,  with  a  force  and  feeling 
all  his  own,  plead  the  claims  of  our  religion,  describe  its 
value,  and  disclose  its  hopes,  may  not  expect,  while  we  live, 
to  witness  anything  approaching  nearer  to  what  we  imagine 
of  a  prophet's  or  an  angel's  inspiration.  He  was  one  of 
those  who  seem  appointed  to  the  high  and  needful  office  of 
conciliating  to  religion  the  minds  of  intellectual  and  taste 
ful  men 

"  Nor  in  regard  alone  to  the  services  directly  rendered 
by  him  to  religion  was  this  lamented  man  a  benefactor. 
His  mind  was  one  of  those  that  leave  a  broad  impress  on 
the  character  of  the  times.  The  weight  of  his  influence, 
and  the  more  powerful  attraction  of  his  example,  gave  an 
impulse  to  the  cause  of  good  learning,  of  which  we  are 
daily  witnessing  more  and  more  brilliant  consequences. 
But  these  were  not  the  cares  the  nearest  to  his  heart. 
Though  followed  by  an  admiration  too  enthusiastic  for  a 
man  of  less  singleness  of  mind  to  bear,  without  being  led 
astray  from  his  appropriate  work,  here  was  the  scene  of  his 
favorite  labors,  and  here  he  reaped  the  most  desired  reward. 

Everything  here  reminds  us  of  him At  the  table 

of  Christian  fellowship,  I  meet  the  disciples  whom  he  led  to 
that  feast,*  and  his  presence  almost  seems  to  be  with  us  there. 
Already  I  find  encouragement  and  friendship  in  those  whose 
earliest  remembered  impressions  of  religion  are  associated 
with  the  pathos  of  his  melting  tones,  the  glory  of  his  speak 
ing  eye.  I  stand  by  death-beds,  cheered  by  happy  hopes 
of  immortality  which  he  taught  to  glow,  and  witness  the 
Christian  patience  of  mourners,  to  whom  he  was  the  minister 

*  See  Appendix  No.  V. 


MONUMENT   AT    MOUNT    AUBURN.  477 

of  that  lasting  peace  which  the  world  cannot  give  nor  take 
away.  Happy  servant  of  his  God,  who  can  leave  such 
enduring  memorials  of  so  short  a  life !  who,  long  after  the 
first  burst  of  general  distress  at  his  early  departure  has 
been  hushed,  survives  in  the  virtuous  purposes  of  manhood, 
and  the  calm  meditation  of  age  !  Happy,  whose  epitaph  is 
recorded  in  the  religious  dedication  of  so  many  grateful 
hearts  !  There  is  no  other  distinction  but  is  mean  com 
pared  with  such  a  glory ! And  when,  at  last,  he 

meets  them  above,  can  anything  be  wanting  to  the  worth  of 
his  crown  of  rejoicing,  when  they  remember,  together,  that 
it  was  by  his  agency  that  God  made  them  associates  for 
angels  ?  "  * 

With  these  beautiful  words  I  close  the  memoir  of  my 
brother,  trusting  that  his  memory  may  yet  survive  to  en 
courage  and  comfort  many  hearts. 

"  One  other  name,  with  power  endowed, 

To  cheer  and  guide  us  onward  as  we  press ; 
One  other  image  on  the  heart  bestowed, 
To  dwell  there,  beautiful  in  holiness." 

June  12,  1842,  exactly  thirty  years  from  the  day  of 
his  funeral,  through  the  surviving  affection  of  the  So 
ciety  of  Brattle  Street  Church,  his  remains  were  re 
moved  from  the  tomb  of  Mr.  Lyman,  at  Waltham,  and 
placed  beneath  a  chaste  and  beautiful  monument  of  white 
marble,  consecrated  to  his  memory,  in  the  cemetery  of 
Mount  Auburn.  By  the  arrangement  of  the  faithful 
memory  of  those  who  had  witnessed  the  attachment  of 
brother  and  sister,  she  who  had  watched  over  him  in 

*  From  Rev.  J.  G.  Palfrey's  sermon,  preached  at  the  church  in 
Brattle  Square,  July  18,  1824. 


478  BROTHER   AND    SISTER. 

life  was  not  divided   from  him  in  the  sacred  repose  of 
one  consecrated  tomb.      Their  united  memory  is  such 

"  As  hallows  and  makes  pure  all  gentle  hearts. 
His  hope  is  treacherous  only  whose  love  dies 
With  beauty,  which  is  varying  every  hour; 
But  in  chaste  hearts,  uninfluenced  by  the  power 
Of  outward  change,  there  blooms  a  deathless  flower, 
That  breathes  on  earth  the  air  of  Paradise." 


APPENDIX. 


No.  I. 

THERE  is  some  uncertainty  about  the  original  family  name. 
It  appears  from  the  records  of  deeds  in  the  Suffolk  office,  and 
in  the  registry  of  wills  in  the  Probate  office,  that  the  first  and 
second  generations  after  coming  to  this  country  wrote  the  name 
Buckmaster.  The  Almanac  and  Prognosticator  of  Thomas  Buck- 
minster,  of  the  year  1599,  now  in  the  possession  of  the  writer,  has 
descended  in  the  family  from  the  day  of  its  author,  and  proves  that 
in  the  year  of  its  publication  the  name  was  written  as  it  is  at  present. 

Joseph  Stevens  Buckminster,  when  in  England, took  the  trouble 
to  search  into  the  antiquity  of  the  family  name,  and  found  that  a 
coat  of  arms,  "  '  Argent,  seme  des  feurs  de  Us,  a  Lyon,  rampant, 
sablej  was  confirmed  by  Sir  Gilbert  Dethick,  Garter  king-at-arms, 
the  24  March,  1578,  in  the  21st  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  to  Wil 
liam  Buckminster,  son  and  heir  of  Richard  Buckminster,  eldest 
son  of  John  Buckminster  of  Peterborough,  Northamptonshire,  and 
to  all  the  posterity  of  the  said  John  Buckminster  forever."  —  MSS. 
in  Ashmole,  No.  834,  p.  20  ;  Guillim's  Heraldry,  6th  ed.,  London, 
1724,  p.  276. 

In  the  English  records  in  Westminster,  printed  by  the  order  of 
William  IV.,  A.  D.  1216,  is  the  name  of  "  Adam  Bukeminstr" 
and  "  Robertum  filium  suum."  It  seems,  therefore,  that  the 
name  as  it  appears  written  in  the  Suffolk  office  is  a  corruption  of 
the  original  name  in  England. 


480  APPENDIX. 

No.  II. 

Sermons  Published  by  Dr.  Buckminstcr. 

1.  A  Discourse  delivered  December  llth,  1783,  the  Day  of  the 
General  Thanksgiving  throughout  the  United  States  after  the  Rat 
ification  of  the  Treaty  of  Peace  and  Acknowledgment  of  their  In 
dependence.     Published  by  request. 

2.  A  Discourse  delivered  November  1,  1789,  when  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States  visited  Portsmouth. 

3.  A  Sermon  delivered  February  27,  1794,  at  the  Interment  of 
Mrs.  Porter  of  Rye. 

4.  Two  Discourses  delivered  February  28,  1796,  upon  the  Duty 
of  Republican  Citizens  in  the  Choice  of  their  Rulers.     "  Dulce  et 
decorum  est  pro  patria  mori."     Published  by  request. 

5.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  Hampton  March  2d,  1796,  a  Day 
devoted  by  the  Congregational  Church  in  that  Place  to  Fasting 
and  Prayer.     Being  Remarks  upon  the  Dispute  and  Separation  of 
Paul  and  Barnabas.     Published  by  Desire  of  the  Hearers. 

6.  A  Discourse  delivered  in  Portsmouth,  November  15,  1798, 
on  Thanksgiving  Day.     Published  by  request. 

7.  A  Sermon  delivered  in  Portsmouth  on  the  Lord's  Day  after 
the  Melancholy  Tidings  of  the  Death  of  George  Washington,  the 
Father,  Guardian,  and  Ornament  of  his  Country.    December,  1799. 

8.  Two  Sermons  delivered  in  the  First  Church  in  Portsmouth 
January  5th,  1800,  the  House  beiri£  shrouded  in  Mourning  in  To 
ken  of  Respect  to  the  Memory  of  General  Washington. 

9.  A  Sermon  preached  to  the  United  Congregational  Churches 
in  Portsmouth  February  22d,  1800,  the  Day  appointed  by  Con 
gress  to  pay  Respect  to  the  Memory  of  Washington.     Published 
by  request. 

10.  A  Discourse  delivered  in  Portsmouth  December  14,  1800, 
the  Anniversary  of  the  Death  of  General  Washington.     "  The 
memory  of  the  just  is  blessed." 

11.  A  Discourse  occasioned  by  the  Desolating  Fire  in  Ports 
mouth,  December,  1803.     Published  by  request. 

12.  A  Discourse  preached  before  the  Portsmouth  Female  Char 
itable  School  October  14,  1803.     Published  by  request. 


APPENDIX.  481 

13.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Ordination  of  Rev.  J.  S.  Buck- 
minster  to  the  Pastoral  Charge  of  the  Church  in  Brattle  Street, 
Boston,  December  30,  1805. 

14.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Interment  of  Rev.  Samuel 
Haven,  D.  D.,  and  of  his  Wife,  Mrs.  Margaret  Haven,  who  sur 
vived  her  Husband  but  thirty-six  hours,  March  3d,  1806.     "In 
their  death  they  were  not  divided." 

15.  Domestic  Happiness.     A  Sermon  delivered  in  Portsmouth 
February  23,  1803.     Published  by  request  of  the  Young  Men  of 
the  Parish. 

16.  A  Discourse  on  Baptism,  1803.     "  Suffer  little  children  and 
forbid  them  not  to  come  to  me  ;  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  —  Jesus  Christ. 

17.  A  Discourse  upon  Christian  Charity,  being  the  Conclusion 
of  the  Sermon  upon  Baptism,  1803. 

18.  A  Sermon  delivered  at  the  Installation  of  Rev.  James  Milti- 
more  to  the  Charge  of  the  Fourth  Church  in  Newbury,  April  27, 
1808. 

19.  A  Sermon  delivered  before  the  Female  Charitable  Society 
of  Newburyport,  May,  1809.    Published  at  the  request  of  the  Man 
agers. 

20.  A  Sermon  preached  at  the  Installation  of  Rev.  James  Thurs- 
ton  in  Manchester,  N.  H.,  May,  1809. 

21.  A  Sermon  delivered  at  the  Interment  of  Rev.  Moses  Hem- 
men  way,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  First  Church  of  Christ  in  Wells, 
Maine,  1811. 

22.  Substance  of  three  Discourses   delivered  in  Park   Street 
Church,  Boston,  August  11,  1811.     "I  am  not  ashamed  of  the 
gospel  of  Christ."  —  St.  Paul. 

Beside  the  above-mentioned  Sermons,  Dr.  Buckminster  pub 
lished  a  short  memoir  of  Dr.  Maclintock  of  Greenland,  N.  H.  He 
was  also  one  of  the  authors  of  the  "  Piscataqua  River  Prayer 
Book  for  the  Use  of  Families,"  and  a  constant  contributor  to  the 
pages  of  the  "  Piscataqua  Missionary  Magazine." 
41 


482  APPENDIX. 

No.  III. 
Publications  of  Rev.  Joseph  Stevens  Bud-minster. 

During  his  life,  he  published  only  two  sermons,  viz.  :  — 

1.  A  Discourse  delivered  December  18,1808,  on  the  Lord's 
Day  after  the  Public  Funeral  of  Hon.  James  Sullivan,  Governor  of 
Massachusetts. 

2.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Interment  of  Rev.  William  Em 
erson,  May,  1811. 

A  Discourse  pronounced  before  the  Society  of  Phi  Beta  Kap 
pa  at  Cambridge,  August  31,  1809.  Published  in  the  Anthol 
ogy- 

His  contributions  to  periodical  publications  during  his  life  were, 
as  nearly  as  can  be  ascertained,  as  follows  :  — 

To  the  Literary  Miscellany  :  —  Review  of  Dr.  Millar's  Retro 
spect  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Vol.  I.,  p.  82.  Translation  of  an 
Idyl  of  Meleager,  and  of  an  Inscription  to  Somnus,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  196, 
197. 

To  the  Monthly  Anthology  .and  Review :  — 
~  Heview  of  the  Salem  Sallust,  Vol.  II.  549. 

Remarker,  No.  5,  on  Criticism,  Vol.  III.  19. 

Review  of  Sherman  on  the  Trinity,  Vol.  III.  249. 

Introduction  to  Retrospective  Notices  of  American  Literature, 
Vol.  V.  54. 

Review  of  Logan's  Version  of  Cato  Major,  Vol.  V.  281,  340, 
391. 

Remarker,  No.  34,  on  Gray's  Poetry,  Vol.  V.  367.  Defence  of 
Gray,  Vol.  V.  484. 

Editor's  Address  to  Vol.  VI.  1. 

Description  of  the  Fall  of  the  Rossburg  and  Destruction  of  Gol- 
dau,  first  published  in  the  Anthology. 

Sketch  of  French  Literature  and  Science,  published  as  a  "  Let 
ter  from  Paris  "  in  the  Anthology. 

Review  of  Thompson's  Septuagint,  Vol.  VII.  396.  Continued, 
Vol.  VIIL  193. 

Review  of  Griesbach's  New  Testament,  Vol.  X.  107.  Con 
tinued,  p.  403.  Notices  of,  Vols.  V.  and  VI. 


APPENDIX.  483 

In  the  General  Repository  and  Review  :  — 

On  the  Accuracy  and  Fidelity  of  Griesbach,  Vol.  I.  89.  Con 
tinued,  363. 

Translation  of  the  Article  PNEYMA  in  Schleusner's  Lexicon, 
with  Notes,  Vol.  I.  296. 

Review  of  Rev.  W.  Emerson's  History  of  the  First  Church, 
Vol.  I.  374,  with  the  exception  of  the  first  paragraph,  which  was 
added  by  the  editor,  Mr.  Andrews  Norton. 

Mr.  Buckminster  published  a  Collection  of  Hymns  "  for  the  use 
of  the  Church  in  Brattle  Street,"  1808. 

Wellbeloved's  Devotional  Exercises  for  the  Use  of  Young  Per 
sons,  1808. 

Zollikoffer's  Sermons  to  Young  Men.  The  last  two  at  his  own 
expense. 

The  first  selection  of  his  sermons,  consisting  of  twenty-four,  in 
large  octavo,  was  published  in  1814,  with  a  memoir  by  S.  C. 
Thacher.  It  passed  through  three  editions. 

The  second  selection,  consisting  of  twenty-two  sermons,  octavo, 
was  published  in  1829. 

In  1839,  James  Munroe  &  Co.  published  "  The  Works  of  Jo 
seph  S.  Buckminster,  with  Memoirs  of  his  Life,"  two  volumes, 
duodecimo.  This  edition  includes  Mr.  Thacher's  Memoir,  and 
Notices  of  Mr.  Buckminster  by  Mr.  Norton,  Mr.  Charles  Eliot, 
and  Rev.  Mr.  Colman.  It  also  includes  extracts  from  sermons  first 
published  in  the  "  Christian  Disciple." 

At  the  commencement  of  the  publication  of  the  "Christian 
Disciple,"  the  manuscript  sermons  of  Mr.  Buckminster  were 
placed  in  the  hands  of  its  editors.  Extracts  were  made  from 
forty-four  sermons,  which  were  published  in  the  successive  numbers 
of  that  periodical. 


No.  IV. 

JOSEPH  S.  BUCKMINSTER'S  library  was  sold,  by  printed  cata 
logue,  at  public  auction,  in  August,  1812.  Here  are  mentioned 
the  editions  of  the  Bible  and  Commentaries  belonging  to  his  li 
brary,  with  their  cost  in  Europe  :  — 


484  APPENDIX. 

Biblia  Sacra  Polyglotta  Londinensia.  Walton.  Lond.  1657. 
And  Lexicon  Heptaglotton.  Castell.  Lond.  1669.  [A  fine 
copy,  containing  the  famous  dedication  to  Charles  the  Second,  the 
very  existence  of  which  has  been  denied  by  bibliographers.  See 
Gen.  Repos.,  No.  2.]  Price,  $  100. 

Biblia  Hebraica.  Cum  variis  lectionibus  ex  ingenti  codicum  co- 
pia  a  B.  Kennicott  &  J.  B.  de  Rossi  collatorum.  Doederlein  &- 
Meisner.  Lipsiae.  1792.  4to.  [Blue  morocco.  Largest  and  best 
paper.]  $9. 

Biblia  Hebraica.  Ex  edit.  Athiae.  4to.  [Imperfect.  Inter 
leaved,  with  some  MS.  notes.] 

Biblia  Graeca.  V.  T.  Graecum  ex  versione  LXX.  Interpr.  juxta 
exemplar  Vaticanum.  Lond.  excud.  Rog.  Daniel.  1653.  [A  large 
paper  copy  in  4to.  of  Daniel's  Septuagint,  containing  the  Apoc 
rypha  and  New  Testament.  Very  rare  and  precious.]  $  10. 

Biblia  Graeca  LXX.  Interp.  ed.  J.  E.  Grabe.  Ex  codice  Alex 
andrine.  Oxon.  1707-9.  8  vols.  8vo.  [The  letter-press  is 
exactly  the  same  with  that  of  the  folio.]  $20. 

Novum  Testamentum  Graecum  J.  J.  Wetstenii.  Amst.  1751. 
[Interleaved,  in  4  vols.  folio.  Russia  backs  and  edges,  and  per 
fectly  new.  Cost  in  London,  1807,  9 £.  12.s.  6d.  sterling.]  $  50. 

Nov.  Test.  Graec.  Griesbachii.  Ed.  2da.  Lond.  &  Hal.  Sax. 
Vol.  I.  1796.  II.  1806.  Royal  8vo.  Commonly  called  the  Duke 
of  Grafton's  edition. 

Nov.  Test.  Graec.  G.  D.  T.  M.  D.  (a  Gerhardo  de  Trajecto 
Mosse  Doctore.)  Editio  altera.  Amst.  1735.  8vo.  [Common 
ly  called  Curcellaeus's  edition,  though  erroneously.  It  is  in  8vo., 
and  not  in  12mo.,  as  Dibdin  (see  p.  Ixix.)  and  others  assert.] 

Poli  Synopsis  Criticorum.  Francofurti  ad  Maenum.  1694.  5 
vols.  4to.  [Much  more  convenient  than  the  common  folio  ed.] 
$25. 

Grotii  Opera  Omn.  Theologica.  Amst.  1679.  Do.Epistolas.  5 
vols.  fol.  [The  first  3  vols.  contain  his  commentary  on  the  Old 
and  New  Testament.  The  5th vol.,  containing  his  letters,  may  be 
sold  separately.]  $25. 

Clerici  (i.  e.  Le  Clerc's)  Commentarius  in  V.  T.  4  vols.  fol. 
$30. 

Clerici  Harmonia  Evang.     1  vol.  fol.     Amst.     1710. 


APPENDIX.  485 

Clerici  et  Hammond!  in  N.  T.  Ed.  2da.  Francof.  1714. 
2  vols.  fol.  [In  all,  9  vols.  folio,  new.] 

Bibliotheca  Fratrum  Polonorum.  Irenop.  1656.  9  vols.  fol. 
[This  set  contains  the  9th  vol.,  which  is  very  rarely  to  be  met 
with.  See  Bp.  Watson's  catalogue  of  books  in  divinity  for  this  and 
many  of  the  large  theological  works  here  offered  for  sale.]  $50. 

Houbigantii  Notae  Criticse  cum  ejusdem  Prolegomenis  juxta  ex 
emplar  Parisiense  denuo  recusse.  Francof.  ad  Maen. .  1777.  2  vols. 
4to.  [This  work  will  supply  the  place  of  Houbigant's  splendid 
Bible.] 

Kennicotti  Dissertatio  Gcneralis  in  V.  T.  fol.  bds.  Oxon. 
1780.  $3. 

Trommii  Concordantise  Graecae  Version  is.  Amst.  1718.  2  vols. 
folio.  [Fine  copy,  uncut.]  $  15. 

Schmidii  Tameion  al.  Concordantise  Nov.  Test.  Graec.  Witte- 
berg.  1638.  folio.  $10. 

Robertson  Thesaurus,  —  sive  Concord antiale  Lexicon  Hebraeo- 
Latinum  Biblicum.  Lond.  1680.  4to. 

Arnald's  Critical  Commentary  on  the  Apocryphal  Books,  being 
a  Continuation  of  Patrick  and  Lowth.  Lond.  1744-52.  folio. 
Scarce. 

Pocock's  Theological  Works,  edited  by  Leon.  Twells.  Lond. 
1740.  2  vols.  Containing  his  Porta  Moris  and  Commentary  on 
Hosea,  Joel,  Micah,  and  Malachi. 

Toinardi  Harmonia  Evangeliorum  Grseco  Latina.  Parisiis. 
1707.  fol.  [For  the  value  of  this  work,  see  Marsh's  Michaelis, 
Vol.  III.,  Pt.  II.,  p.  41.] 

Whitby's  Paraphrase  and  Commentary  on  the  New  Testament. 
Fifth  ed.  Lond.  1727.  2  vols.  fol.  $15. 

Beausobre  et  L'Enfant  nouveau  Testament.  Nouvelle  ed.  cor- 
rige  par  les  Auteurs.  Amst.  1741.  2  vols.  4to.  [This  is  the 
ed.  opt.  of  this  most  excellent  work.]  $  12. 

The  New  Test.,  Greek  and  English.  London  :  Printed  for  J. 
Roberts.  1729.  2  vols.  8vo.  [Large  paper,  very  rare.  Editor  and 
translator  unknown ;  supposed  to  be  Dr.  Mace  or  Macey.  See 
Dibdin,  Introd.,  p.  Ixv.]  $6. 

Wakefield's  Translation  of  the  New  Testament.  2d  ed.  Lond. 
1795.  2  vols.  royal  8 vo.  Large  paper.  $9. 


486  APPENDIX. 

Nov.  Test.  Gr.  Nova  versione  Latina  illustrata  auctore  H.  A. 
Schott.  Lips.  1805.  8vo.  Bound  in  2  vols.  Russia.  [Text 
Griesbach's,  with  the  most  important  various  readings  under  it, 
and  various  renderings  under  the  Latin  version  ;  "  in  usum  Gym- 
nasiorum  et  Academiarum  editum."]  $6. 

La  Sainte  Bible.  Expliquee  par  des  Notes  de  Theologie  et  de 
Critique  sur  la  Version  ordinaire  des  Eglises  Reformees,  revue  sur 
les  Origineaux,  &c.,  par  David  Martin.  Amst.  1707.  2  vols.  fol. 
$6. 

La  Sainte  Bible,  ou  V.  et  N.  T.,  traduites  par  les  Pasteurs  et 
les  Professeurs  de  Geneve.  A  Geneve.  1805.  Last  edition,  cor 
rected.  3  vols.  8vo.  $750. 


No.  V. 

DURING  Mr.  Buckminster's  ministry  of  seven  years  and  four 
months,  two  hundred  and  fifty-nine  were  baptized  (one  of  them 
eighty-three  years  old),  and  eighty-eight  persons  were  added  to  the 
church  in  Brattle  Street. 


No.  VI. 

OF  the  engravings  prefixed  to  this  volume,  that  of  Dr.  Buck- 
minster  is  the  only  portrait  ever  taken  of  him.  It  was  painted  at 
about  the  age  of  thirty-eight  years.  The  general  outline  of  the 
face  and  figure  are  correct ;  but  the  face,  at  least  to  those  who  were 
intimately  acquainted  with  him,  is  extremely  deficient  in  the  ele 
vated,  intellectual,  and  harmonious  expression  which  belonged  to 
the  original. 

The  younger  portrait  is  an  engraving  by  Edwin  from  the  splen 
did  picture  of  Mr.  Buckminster,  painted  by  Gilbert  Stuart  only  a 
few  months  before  his  death.  It  is  one  of  his  happiest  efforts. 
Mr.  Thacher  observes  of  this  picture,  "  Some  of  the  most  inter 
esting  traits,  which  are  yet  remembered  with  fond  regret  by  his 
friends,  it  is  perhaps  beyond  the  reach  of  art  to  preserve."  Many 
copies  have  been  taken  from  it.  The  original  picture  is  in  the  pos 
session  of  George  Lyman,  Esq.,  Boston. 


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